Little Guy
by Clell65619
Summary: What if Lilly was a little more prepared to escape if Voldemort came calling. She knew that the Floo and Portkeys could be disabled, what if she had found a back door? Just a silly little story of a somewhat different Harry
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I do not own Harry Potter. Nor any of the Jay Ward Productions Characters mentioned herein. But you knew that.**

**Little Guy**

**October 31, 1980**

Clutching her son to her breast, Lily Potter fought against her panic as she drew the symbols on the floor of Harry's nursery.

Why hadn't she done this before? Why wasn't she better prepared?

She could hear the battle below as James fought for their lives on the main floor of the house. The modicum of security the ongoing fight offered died when the sounds of battle ended suddenly.

She threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace. Nothing. She reached for the emergency portkey, and almost started crying when it too, turned out to be useless. The only answer was an ancient tool that lacked the precision and ease of use of more modern spells, but the likelihood of Voldemort having cast charms that would block the function of a Norse Spell Circle was vanishingly small.

Lily could hear someone coming up the stairs as she finished her drawing. Still holding Harry, she stood in the middle of the circle and reached for her wand…

Only to find it missing. Where was her wand? Had she left it in the kitchen? Would she and Harry die due to her carelessness?

Activating the Circle required magic offered to its field matrix. When Voldemort entered the Nursery, he would kill them both. She was too large to be fully enclosed in the Circle's field matrix without the Circle being active. Designed to be activated from within, the circle needed power, but the theory said that outside magic might still work…

Decision made, she cast a sleeping spell on Harry and placed her sleeping son in the center of the Circle, and prayed her hastily drawn symbols were correct. The Circle allowed no destination to be specified, it only promised that the inhabitant of the Circle be sent somewhere safe.

Lily stepped away from her sleeping son and died when the Dark Lord entered the room.

**oooOOOooo**

Voldemort looked away from Lily Potter's body with a small smile. Severus would be so disappointed, but the dour man would have to learn to live with disappointments.

The boy… One of those supposedly with the power the Dark Lord knew not, lay asleep on the floor. Perhaps the real threat was the Longbottom child, dispatching this one was hardly worth his time, despite the battle the boy's sire had offered. The man born Tom Riddle wondered idly just what the 'power he knew not' might be while raising his want to cast a final spell.

Voldemort gathered the hatred he carried for everyone who was not him. "Avada Kedavra!" he chanted, and watched as the green spell flare jumped from his wand to the boy. His eyes widened in shock when the spell veered away from the sleeping child and into the floor, where chalk symbols suddenly lit up the room with an otherworldly blue light.

Voldemort's attention to the blue light faded as he realized that magic, his magic was still pouring out of his wand, and he could not stop it. Whatever these symbols were, they were sucking him dry. In a panic, he tried to break the connection, but no matter where he pointed his wand, the torrent of magic still connected to the now blue white circle.

The light was so bright; he could no longer make out the child at the center. A horrifying thought ran through his mind as he tried and failed to drop his wand. This was the power he knew not.

Fully charged, the Spell Circle discharged and fulfilled its design, sending the inhabitant of the Circle to safety. The backlash flooded the room, destroying the cottage and obliterating the body of an all too arrogant Dark Lord.

**oooOOOooo**

**November 1, 1980**

She stretched in the early light. Ursula truly loved this time of day, offering at it did, the opportunity for fresh discoveries and adventures.

Her husband was, of course, already gone, out making his rounds, ensuring that those who lived in the lands he protected where relatively safe and happy.

Rising from her bed, she pulled on the outfit her husband so loved her in, and padded her way to the main room of her home so that she could witness the beauty of the world outside.

Looking down on her husband's domain was inspiring, so much so she missed the flash of light behind her. There was however, no missing the scent that flooded her senses, the smell of her hometown, Bayonne, New Jersey. Ozone and Petroleum distillates.

Turning she found a small child sleeping on the floor behind her. She rushed to the child and lifted her… no, she quickly checked, him, up. The little boy blinked at her sleepily and cuddled closer, murmuring "Mummy."

That was all it took. Ursula knew she had found her calling.

"Ursula!" a male voice called from the doorway. "I'm home!"

"Look Dear," she said, turning so her husband could see the sleeping boy."

"What is it?" the man asked.

"It's a baby," she explained patiently. "Our Baby!"

"Oh," the big man nodded, slightly perplexed. He accepted the child from Ursula and examined him closely. "He little guy."

Therefore, he was.

**oooOOOooo**

**July 19, 1991.**

Cresting the hill, the party came to a stop. The guide wiped his forehead with a colorful handkerchief while waiting for the tourist in the purple crushed velvet safari suit and blood red pith helmet to catch up.

"We're here, Boss," the guide said. "Beyond that tree line is Mbebwe."

"At last," Albus Dumbledore said while extending his telescope to take in the incredibly dense, lush jungle that seemed to spring from the dusty dry grassland. After realizing he could see nothing but trees and vines, he collapsed the telescope and returned it to the left leg pocket of his purple crushed velvet cargo shorts. They set off the yellow stars on his safari blouse nicely. As always, Albus was proud of his skill in blending in among the Muggles. "How long until we reach the settlement?"

"Like I told you, Boss," the guide continued with a wide smile, "only crazy people and those who don't care if they die go to Mbebwe. I have led you to the boundary, but we," he gestured to himself and the porters, "will not go in."

"But how will I find the man I'm looking for?"

"If only half the stories about that place are true," the guide said with a broad smile, "you won't have to worry about finding him, he'll find you."

Albus considered arguing, but realized he would be wasting his time. Nodding to his guide, he adjusted the straps of his backpack and resumed the hike toward the legendary jungles of Mbebwe, alone.

The guide waited until the old man vanished into the jungle. "Crazy Wizards," he said with a shake of his head before turning to his crew. "Make camp, we were paid to wait a week for him to return… if he does."

**oooOOOooo**

Three days later, an exhausted Albus Dumbledore stumbled into a small clearing.

He had been looking for the missing Potter heir for most of a decade, and this… this destination was by far the worst.

Worse than his trip to Buckingham Palace to explain to the Monarch that her distant cousin was missing. Worse than his trip to New York City to see if Steven Strange had any idea as to where the boy might have gone. Worse than the trip to Connecticut to see if one of the insanely powerful Elders, who as a group, were condescending smug when dealing with wand users, had intervened in the Potter family's fate. The horrors he was forced to deal with in this forsaken jungle were even worse than his trip to North Korea to confront the most frightening man in the world about the status of a young boy.

This jungle was horrible. The predators ignored animal repelling wards, the rain shredded his tent, soaking everything he owned beyond the ability of drying charms to work, the rivers were full of vicious creatures that would attack anyone attempting to cross or even just get water, and even the plants would attack someone foolish enough to stand still for more than two minutes.

Albus was beginning to think that returning to Hogwarts without Harry Potter might be the best plan. After all, compared to this, how bad could an unbeatable Tom Riddle really be?

"Oh, good afternoon," a voice broke into Dumbledore's misery.

His wand at the ready, Albus spun to face… a large gorilla sitting in the shade of a tree… looking up from a book?

"I'd heard rumors of someone gadding about in the jungle," the giant simian continued, carefully marking his place in his book with an antique brass bookmark. "I always like to meet new people, so I came out to have a look, and I'd just sat down for a spot of lunch. Would you care to join me?"

Before Albus had managed to formulate an answer, a huge lion reared from the foliage and roared.

Albus might have soiled himself at that. He was not sure, and at that moment, was in no position to check.

"Leon!" the gorilla scolded. "Stop that, you're disturbing my guest."

The lion roared again.

"Do I have to get George?" The gorilla asked.

With a whine, the lion's tail drooped, and the beast disappeared back into the bushes.

"Sorry about that," the ape said with a sigh. "Leon likes to scare the tourists. Do have a seat; no one will be bothering us."

Dumbledore lowered his wand, swallowing noisily. "Thank you," he said lowering himself to the ground. "I am Albus Dumbledore."

"Algernon Prescott Emerson the Third," the gorilla responded. "My friends call me Ape. What brings you to Mbebwe?"

"I am searching for a child," Albus answered, having decided to ignore the oddness of this situation and soldier on.

Ape's oddly expressive face offered an expression of distaste. "Most societies frown on that sort of thing," he noted.

"A _**missing**_ child," Albus emphasized, and although he was speaking to a gorilla, he decided to press on. "The boy's name is Harry Potter and he's been missing for most of a decade. It's vital that I find him."

A look of concern became evident on the Ape's face. "When did you lose him?"

"Young Harry disappeared the night of All Hallows Eve, 1981, when he was barely 15 months old."

The gorilla passed Albus a plate of sandwiches, "do have some, I've brought far too much for just me." He waited as Albus selected a half sandwich from the plate. "And what are your intentions if you find him?"

"Well," Albus said, taking a small bite of the sandwich, "assuming he is in a caring family, offer him his place at my school. His birth parents enrolled him not long after he was born."

"I see," the gorilla said as he stood up, gathering his picnic supplies and book as he did so. "Come along Albus, I need to take you to meet George."

"George?" Dumbledore echoed.

"Yes, George, of the Jungle. My oldest friend. Coincidentally, on November 1st 1981, George's wife Ursula found a young child. Since then George and Ursula have raised the boy in their own inimitable way. I believe it is possible that your search may be at an end."

**oooOOOooo**

A subdued Albus Dumbledore rose to speak at the end of the staff meeting the week before the school began. "Colleagues, I am happy to announce that I have found Harry Potter."

The assembled staff lost their end of meeting boredom and was suddenly alert.

"Are you sure?" Minerva asked.

"Oh, yes," Albus nodded, trying very hard not to think about the jungles of Mbebwe. "There is no mistaking him, he is Lily Potter's son."

"So," Filius asked hesitantly, "we can expect to see him September first?"

"We can," Albus nodded again. "The negotiations to convince his new parents to allow it were… strenuous. I will be sending out a list of the school rules that young Harry will be exempt from, due to his rather… curious upbringing."

"Exceptions to the rules?" Minerva asked, scandalized.

"Several," Albus admitted. "Among other things, young Harry will be exempt from the school uniform. He refused outright to even consider wearing robes."

"There were rumors the boy was being raised by Muggles," Snape sneered. "Will we be seeing the pampered princeling modeling the latest in their sportswear?"

"And why are you making exceptions for this one boy, no matter who he might be?" Pomona demanded.

"The Ministry has been demanding the return of Harry Potter to these shores for most of a decade," Albus sighed. "If I had not negotiated the boy's return, the Ministry, would likely have done something foolishly impulsive, which might have ended up pulling us into a war we couldn't win."

"Lovely," Pomona sighed. "What other exceptions does the Boy Who Lived rate?"

"He has a rather particular pair of familiars, a bird and…" Albus hesitated for a moment, "something else. I would advise you all to avoid the creatures if at all possible, but they will have free run of the castle, as young Harry needs them. The largest boon I granted the boy is that I have given him permission to sleep in one of your green houses, Pomona."

"Excuse me?" the woman asked incredulously. "You expect me to give up an entire greenhouse to house single student?"

"No, he doesn't want an empty greenhouse…" Albus hesitated, "I promised him he could stay in greenhouse five."

Silence filled the room for several seconds as they digested that tidbit of information.

"Albus," Pomona said, breaking the silence, "Greenhouse five is houses the most dangerous of all the plants we cultivate. Only my NEWT Students can use that green house, and even then in teams of three or more with full protective charms and breathing filters. For anyone else, entering that greenhouse would be a slow agonizing death. If those plants weren't so useful in healing potions, I wouldn't keep them."

"Trust me Pomona," Albus sighed, "Harry Potter will love it."

**oooOOOooo**

"Potter, Harry!" Professor McGonagall called out.

Whispers suddenly broke out all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"_**The**_ Harry Potter?"

For several seconds nothing happened. McGonagall looked up from her parchment to the Headmaster. The old man blinked and then gestured meaningfully. The Assistant Headmistress sighed and called out "Little Guy of the Jungle!"

"Huh?" the dark haired, nearly naked, young man squatting on all fours asked as he looked up from sniffing the hem of young Blaise Zabini's robes suspiciously.

"It is time for your sorting, Little Guy," Dumbledore said from his place at the staff table.

"Ok, Commissioner," the oddly dressed boy said happily before he loped to Professor McGonagall in a gait that had him on all fours. Gingerly lowering himself onto the three-legged stool, the boy looked up at her in curiosity.

McGonagall lowered the sorting hat upon the boys head and stepped back.

And was immediately glad she had when the boy screamed something unintelligible, pulling the hat from his head, and ended up rolling on the floor of the Great Hall stabbing at the hat with a conjured knife.

Before any of the staff could react, a birdcall filled the air of the Great Hall.

"**AH AH EE EE TOOKIE TOOKIE**!"

Instantly the flailing boy stopped his attack on the Sorting Hat. "Hello Tookie. Hat supposed to talk in Little Guy's head?"

"**AH AH EE EE TOOKIE TOOKIE**!" a large bird with beautiful blue plumage called as it fluttered down from the rafters to land on the sorting stool.

"Oh," the boy said nodding. He lifted the hat. "Little Guy sorry Hat Fella. Tookie says when you talk in Little Guy's head you finding where Little Guy belong and not possessed by evil spirit."

The boy stood up and returned to the sorting stool. The Tookie Tookie bird fluttered to the boy's shoulder and the young man once known as Harry Potter sat down and returned the hat to his head.

"Hufflepuff…" the hat all but screamed. "You're in Hufflepuff. Now put me down."

"Ok," Little Guy said happily, removing the hat from his head. "Where Hufflepuff?"

"**AH AH EE EE TOOKIE TOOKIE**!" the bird responded.

"Thanks, Tookie," Little Guy said as he made his way to the 'Puff table. "Hi fellas," he said as he took a seat between a Hannah Abbot and Susan Bones. "I am Little Guy."

**oooOOOooo**

"Harry Potter in Hufflepuff," Cedric Diggory marveled in the confines of the Badger's common room after the Welcoming feast. "Can you imagine it? Now the rest of the school will have to take us seriously."

"Calm down, Ced," Jacob Summerby said quietly. "Sure, everyone expected him to end up in with the Gryffies, like every Potter before him, but there's something odd going on with the Potter boy, you saw how he was dressed."

"A loin cloth," Joyce Zeller mused. "And not a stitch more. Then he conjured a knife from nowhere, without a wand, before his first lesson. What really got my attention is that not one of the professors raised as much as an eyebrow. Jacob is right; something very odd is going on. I was across the table from him at dinner, his diction is atrocious, his table manners nonexistent, I don't think his hair have ever seen a comb, and from the way he spoke to the two firsties on either side of him, I don't think he knows what a girl is."

"What?" Summerby asked in shock. "Was he raised by wolves?"

"From the stories he told, he was raised in a jungle somewhere," Joyce explained. "Which fits with the name McGonagall used to get his attention; Little Guy of the Jungle.

"Especially when you notice that Sprout escorted Potter out of the dorms immediately following her 'Welcome to Hufflepuff' lesson," Eve Lawler noted. "That's never happened before."

"Well, yeah," Cedric agreed, "but still, Harry Potter is in Hufflepuff!"

**oooOOOooo**

"Found it!" Susan Fawcett called from her study carrel. Almost instantly, she was surrounded by fellow Ravenclaws, each craning to get the best view of her discovery.

"What did you find?" Eddie Carmichael demanded.

"Tookie Tookie Bird," Fawcett read. "Native to central Africa, a powerful magic bird species similar too, but unrelated to the Phoenix. The Typical Tookie Tookie bird has brown plumage, but reports of blue Tookie Tookies abound in legend. Known magical abilities include, travelling long distances instantly, the ability to lift many times its own weight, the ability to find anything it is asked for, and an immunity to fire and ice."

"Potter has a rare magical African bird for a familiar?" Cho Chang asked.

"What makes you think it's his familiar?" Marrietta Edgecomb asked.

"It has to be," Cho insisted. "I mean, it's not on the approved pet list for first years. If the staff is allowing it there has to be a reason."

"And a familiar is the only exception to the approved pets list," Roger Davies nodded. "Well thought out Cho."

"You're all missing the big picture," Penelope Clearwater pointed out.

The brows of the assembled Ravenclaws furrowed as they tried to determine what they had missed.

"What is it, Penny?" Roger asked.

"Potter spoke to it and it understood him," she announced. "And the bird made its call and Potter understood what it was saying. This suggests far more intelligence than any normal magical bird. We need to learn more about the Tookie Tookie bird."

**oooOOOooo**

"Harry Potter is in Hufflepuff," Terrence Higgs noted before the assembled Slytherins.

"I always said he was a duffer," Draco Malfoy announced. "And this proves it. He is nothing."

Higgs nodded to Marcus Flint, who roughly cuffed the first year upside the head, knocking the smaller boy to the floor.

"You are here as a curtesy to your father, Malfoy," Higgs said dangerously. "You are here to listen and learn, not to speak and demonstrate to everyone that you are a fool."

The door from the dungeon opened and Sarah Rosier entered, clearly flustered.

"Took you long enough," Flint groused.

"Sod off Flint," the girl spat as she pushed Draco from his chair before sinking into it herself. "Move it firstie, chairs are for people who deserve them."

"An hour is a bit much to make sure that Potter is actually in the Hufflepuff dorms, Rosier," Higgs suggested.

"He was and now, he isn't," Rosier explained. "I went to the Hufflepuff dorms under the pretense of speaking to Sprout about the NEWT Herbology project. She was leaving the dorms with the Potter boy, and I was allowed to accompany them."

"Accompany them where?" Darrius Urquhart asked.

"Greenhouse 5," she said quietly. "Potter is evidently sleeping there."

"What?" Flint shouted.

"Greenhouse 5," Rosier confirmed. "Sprout opened the door; Potter took one look and rushed in. I don't think I've ever seen anyone so happy."

"Potter is some kind of plant lover?" Draco laughed, only to receive a slap to the back of his head.

"You were told to be quiet firstie," Flint said. "Another word and I do you damage."

"Who is staying in there with him?" Urquhart asked.

"No one," Rosier said, shaking her head. "Only that odd bird of his."

"Why is Dumbledore letting him commit suicide?" Higgs asked the assembled upper forms of Slytherin house.

He was unsurprised that silence was his only answer.

**oooOOOooo**

Nearly the total population of Gryffindor house gathered in the common room, with the new firsties in the center of the room.

"You lot spent the most time with Potter, tell us about him." Fred Weasley demanded.

"Who cares about Potter?" his younger brother asked. "He's a Hufflepuff for Merlin's sake."

"He's a Potter," Angelina Johnson explained patiently. "Potters have always been in Gryffindor, and he isn't. We want to know why the hat put him in with the 'Puffs."

"Did one of you spoil Gryffindor house for him?" George Weasley asked, eyeing his brother Ron suspiciously.

"I never even saw him until he was on the boats," Ron Weasley protested.

"I honestly don't think he spent much time with anyone," the bushy haired firstie said hesitantly. "Not long after we left the station, I was looking for Neville's toad and found him alone in a carriage. He had his head out the window like a dog in a car. I told him that doing that was dangerous because he could be hit by one of the track side signs. He called me a 'smart fella' and climbed out the window and up on top of the carriage. I didn't see him again until we got off the train and he jumped down off the train to join the rest of us walking to the boats."

"He rode on top of the carriage?" Percy Weasley asked indignantly. "Why didn't you tell anyone, like me for instance, I'm a prefect."

"I did tell you," the girl insisted. "You told me not to be silly. After two other prefects reacted the same way, I went back to my carriage."

"Maybe," Neville Longbottom said, looking up from the floor for the first time, "maybe he just wanted to be in Hufflepuff."

Silence filled the Gryffindor common room as each member of the house of Bravery tried to wrap his or her minds around anyone wanting to be a Hufflepuff.

**oooOOOooo**

"Finally," Little Guy said as he looked about the vast building full of plants, many of which were starting to reach for him playfully. "Little Guy thought never be warm again."

"**AH AH EE EE TOOKIE TOOKIE**!" Tookie said wisely.

"Tookie right, as always," Little Guy admitted. "But silly robes all itchy."

A vine encircled his waist, drawing Little Guy's attention. "Hey Plant Fella, thanks for making Little Guy feel at home," he said patting the vine.

The vine began pulling Little Guy into the foliage where, "**AH AH EE EE TOOKIE TOOKIE**!" the bird pointed out helpfully.

"Ah, don't be silly Tookie," Little Guy scoffed as he disappeared into the foliage. "Plant Fella and Little Guy all friends here."

The Tookie Tookie bird just sighed as the silence in the green house was replaced with the sound of thrashing, thumping and what sounded like a scream of terror. Spreading his wings, he took flight, penetrating into the dense interior of the green house where he found Little Guy finish a nest among the plants, and a knotted ball of plant growth that was the remains of the plant that was the source of the vine.

"Told you Tookie," Little Guy said with a yawn. "Plant Fella wanted to rough-house a little before sleep time."

"**AH AH EE EE TOOKIE TOOKIE**!" Tookie agreed, before he thought of something else. "**AH AH EE EE TOOKIE TOOKIE**!"

"You worry too much, Tookie," Little Guy said, yawning again. "Tomorrow take care of itself. Good night, Tookie."

"**AH AH EE EE TOOKIE TOOKIE**!" the bird responded.

**oooOOOooo**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I do not own Harry Potter. Nor any of the Jay Ward Productions Characters mentioned herein. But you knew that.**

**Little Guy**

**School Daze**

Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones settled down at the Hufflepuff table for their breakfast when an animalistic scream echoed throughout the Great Hall.

Looking up the two girls were rewarded with the sight of their new housemate, Little Guy passing over their heads, as he swung from a vine that appeared to be attached… somewhere.

The nearly naked boy smashed face-first into the stone wall hanging there for several seconds before slowly sliding to the stone floor below.

"Ow!" Little Guy said eloquently, rubbing his nose. "Oh, hi fellas," he continues brightly when he spotted the two girls.

"Are you all right?" Hannah asked.

"Little Guy fine," he assured them, taking his seat at the table. "Walls much better for stopping than trees. Harder to miss, especially from the inside."

"Good morning ladies," Professor Sprout said as she arrived at the table, doing her level best to not comment on the boy's odd behavior. "Did you sleep well, Little Guy?" she asked.

"Like cub in den, Professor Fella," Little Guy assured her. "Plant fellas want to roughhouse, but I tell them, school come first."

"Quite," Pomona agreed, while wondering if she would ever get used to the most dangerous magical plants in the world being referred to as 'plant fellas'. "On the subject of school coming first, I have your schedules."

The older witch left the table as soon as she had distributed the sheets of parchment.

"Charms first," Susan commented, reading her schedule.

"Ch-Arms?" Little Guy asked in a confused tone, "what that?"

The two girls exchanged a look before Hannah explained, "Charms are the kind of spells that make something do things they normally wouldn't do, like making a rock fly or a feather heavy."

"OH," Little Guy said with a nod. "Enchanting. Ok, thanks Hannah Fella."

"You're welcome, Little Guy," the blonde said quietly. "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

The boy shrugged. "Little Guy's life is open book."

"Why don't you use the name you were born with?"

Again, the boy shrugged. "Didn't know it until last month, Little Guy's Dad named me when he first saw me. Always been Little Guy."

**oooOOOooo**

Filius Flitwick balanced atop a pile of books, surveying his class. Somehow, this was not the way he imagined his favorite student's son would appear in his class. Clad only in a loin cloth, rather than sitting on the bench behind his desk, crouched on all fours, the boy's attention was focused upon him will all the intensity of a predator.

Filius suppressed a shudder. That look reminded him of the time in his childhood while visiting his grandmother's people in the caverns when he had happened upon a dragon guarding a vault. The boy's eyes held the same predatory look as the giant beast had.

"Welcome to Charms," he said after he finished taking the roll. "This year we will start your exploration of the most interesting of all the magical subjects. Charms allow you to bend the physical world to your will, and to make life better for those around you."

"In my classroom, I never stand on formality. Make yourselves comfortable and we will begin today's lesson.

Around the classroom, ties were loosened, and some of the more adventurous of the students put their feet up on the desktops. It was then that Filius returned his attention to… Little Guy. His mouth fell open when he discovered this oddest of students was now hanging upside-down from the rafters of the room, entangled in some sort of vine, the same intense look on his face.

That was when Filius fell of his pile of books.

**oooOOOooo**

Minerva McGonagall waved her wand and the newly created pig returned to its original form of her desk, all of her class notes and books still perfectly in their places.

To say she was shocked by the startled scream coming from behind her was an understatement.

"You… you… you took life with no honor!" the Potter boy said, his eyes wide in horror.

Minerva sighed silently. "Mr… Little Guy, I assure you that the animal felt no pain."

"You make life and then just send it away?" He asked incredulously. "You don't care? You show the animal no respect; you create and destroy with no concern for the life you make?"

The boy fled to the back of the room, before turning to face her. "What kind of monster do that Professor Fella? You worse than hunters who kill for skin and waste meat. You make life and vanish it without thought."

"Mr. Little Guy," Minerva said sternly, "calm yourself and think rationally. I have seen you eat meat, this was no different. And the Pig was never truly alive. It was a transfigured desk."

"No different?" the boy continued in his disbelief. "All life kill to eat, kill to live. Meat fellas, plant fellas, all life. When you eat, you show respect for life shared between the food fellas and you just as food fellas showed respect for what they ate and the respect whatever animal that eat you when your time come will show for you. And Pig Fella was alive. I still smell Pig Fella breath and spoor. I heard heartbeat, I saw life in Pig Fella's eyes. You ended Pig Fella's life without thought, without honor for Pig Fella; you waste that life when you return Pig Fella to what is less than he was."

"You monster!" the boy declared as he ran from the room.

Silence filled the classroom for several seconds while Minerva considered what Lilly's son had said and the class waited for her to react to their classmate's words.

**oooOOOooo**

Little Guy's excitement for his first potions lesson wasn't dimmed in the slightest when it turned out that the potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. Despite being colder than in the main castle, it was still interesting and the pickled animals in glass jars lined up along walls promised the possibility of a snack.

Potions Professor Fella, like Short Professor Fella, started the class by taking the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at one student's name.

"Ah, Yes," he said softly, "Harry Potter. Our new… _celebrity_."

This comment drew a few snickers from the Ravenclaws in the room, from those 'Claws who were looking to endear themselves to the professor. The rest of the class was silent, and Little Guy wondered who this Potter Fella was.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," Potions Professor Fella said. Little Guy tuned him out. This was pretty much the same speech Doctor Kilimandaro gave before his potions lessons.

"Potter!" Potions Professor Fella snapped. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Little Guy waited patiently for this Potter Fella to answer. Potions Professor Fella locked eyes with him and was obviously agreeing that this Potter Fella was a bit dim.

Potions Professor Fella's lips curled into a sneer. "Perhaps fame doesn't indicate intelligence…"

Little Guy nodded enthusiastically. This Potter Fella was being very rude, not bothering to answer the Potion Professor Fella's questions. Dr. Kilimandaro would never have stood for such rudeness.

"Let's try again, Potter," Potion Professor Fella said, kindly offering the rude student a second chance. "Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Little Guy knew this one too. Hippos horked them up all the time, though what anyone would want with a calcified ball of undigested vegetable matter the size of a dinner plate was beyond him.

Whoever this Potter Fella was, he still wasn't answering.

"So, you couldn't be bothered to open a book before coming to class, eh, Potter?"

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

Little Guy rolled his eyes when this Potter Fella still didn't answer. However, he had to admit that he had no idea the answer to this one. Maybe these things had a different name back home.

Suddenly Little Guy remembered. He was Potter.

"I don't know, Potions Professor Fella," he said contritely. Potions Professor Fella, however, was not pleased.

"Pathetic, Potter," he snapped. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well?" he glared at the class. "Why aren't any of you writing this down?"

There was a sudden rummaging for quills and parchment. Over the noise, Potions Professor Fella said, "And a point will be taken from Hufflepuff for your lack of preparation, Potter."

Little Guy's cheeks burned with embarrassment. Potions Professor Fella was right. He deserved the punishment, and likely more.

"Today's introductory lesson will be something simple," Potions Professor Fella said, "Something that even Potter should be able to do. You will brew a simple Boil Cure Potion."

The Professor waved his wand and the chalkboard flipped, showing a list of instructions. "Your ingredients are on the table in front of you. The potion requires forty minutes to brew, if you concentrate, you should finish in time. Should you fail, your score for the day will be a well-deserved 0."

He returned to his desk and sat down. "You may begin."

Overjoyed at the opportunity to pursue his favorite hobby, Little Guy immediately leaped from his stool and cleared out a space on the floor.

"What are you doing Potter?" Potions Professor Fella asked.

"What you said to do, Professor Fella," Little Guy said happily, as he pulled his campfire from his loincloth of holding.

**oooOOOooo**

Severus Snape's mouth hung open as he watched the son of the man he hated more than any other, somehow pull a blazing mass of wood from nowhere. A massive cauldron large enough for a man to bathe in followed the fire, into which the boy dumped the ingredients for his class project.

It was only when the boy produced the large mask that he wore as he danced around the cauldron, shaking rattles, whistling, blowing horns and chanting that an idea blossomed in the bitter man's mind.

He would allow the child to make a fool of himself and then expel him from Potions Class for his recklessness. It was perfect. There was no way Dumbledore could possibly protest an expulsion for cause.

The fact that the rest of the class could not tear themselves away from the Potter boy's foolishness was simply proof of the perfection of Snape's plan.

The masked child continued to dance and chant around the massive cauldron for almost seven minutes. When he stopped, he examined the standard potion dosage vial and frowned.

"Professor Fella," he said respectfully, "Is there bigger bottle?"

"No," Snape smiled in anticipation of being rid of the boy, once and for all.

"No problem," the boy said with a grin, "I think I've got one…"

Snape was more than a little disturbed by the way the boy dug around inside his loincloth for several seconds before brightening and withdrawing a glass jug that looked capable of holding at least two gallons of liquid.

It was with a certain glee the Potions Master watched the child fill the jug with the result of his idiot dancing, and brought it to the professor's desk.

"Here you go," Potter said with a hopeful grin. "Just the way Dr. Kilimandaro taught me to do it."

Snape's mouth went dry. "Kilimandaro?" he asked.

"The local Witch Doctor back home," Potter laughed. "He teaching me potions since Little Guy was Littler Guy."

The boy had been taught by Kilimandaro? The premier Potions Master in the world? Snape turned his attention to Potter's 'sample'.

This was not possible. The color was perfect. Removing the stopper, Snape sniffed, the scent was perfect.

Dipping his left pinky finger into the brew, he dared to touch it to the tip of his tongue. The taste of warm beef broth with a hint of onion. Perfect.

This was not possible. One of the laws of potions was the greater the volume, the more contaminates creep into the brew. The Potter boy had somehow produced two gallons of the Boil cure in seven minutes.

This had to be a mistake. He would have to analyze the boy's work. He would have to…

He noticed the boy staring at him hopefully, and the rest of the class looking on in amazement.

"Adequate," Snape pronounced. "You may go for the day."

The beaming boy packed his tools back into his loincloth and made his way to the door.

"Potter!" Snape called.

The boy stopped and looked back, "Yes, Professor Fella?"

"Two points to Hufflepuff for finishing first."

"Thank you Professor Fella," the boy smiled widely.

The rest of the class immediately got to work on their potions in the more traditional manner. Snape could not take his eyes off the massive sample.

He had to determine what the boy had done and how he had done it.

**oooOOOooo**

"Colleagues," Dumbledore said taking the reins of the Quarterly Staff meeting. "I thank you for your hard work and everything else you do for our school. I believe it is time we discuss a certain student. I have heard some very odd rumors and would like to hear how the student Little Guy is actually doing in your classes.

"He's doing fine in my Astronomy class," Aurora Sinestra said quietly. "It took him a while to get used to the northern hemisphere, and he's not a fan of telescopes, preferring direct observation, but he's concise, studious and polite in his own odd way."

"And in my class as well," Quirinus Quirrell agreed. "Polite, studious, atrocious grammar when speaking, but his written work almost seems like that of an Oxford don. At first I thought he had one of the upper forms doing his written assignments, but I actually watched his writing process during an in class assignment and it really is his own work."

"He hates me and my class," Minerva admitted. "And skives off Transfiguration class as often as he can."

"That seems so very different than the Little Guy in my class, Min," Filius said.

"I opened my first class with him by transfiguring my desk into a pig," she explained. "When I returned the desk to its original condition, he became hysterically furious, going on about the casual creation and destruction of life. He feels very strongly about this and resents me for it."

"Well, he's doing well in Herbology," Pomona said. "He knows plants and they seem to understand him. I was horrified that he was to sleep in Greenhouse 5, but those plants appear to be terrified of him," the woman's face took on an odd expression. "I don't think I ever really believed that plants could know fear."

"And there are no problems in Charms," Filius concluded. "He's the most driven to succeed student I've ever known, and I run Ravenclaw house, so that's saying something. I just wish he would remain in contact with the ground."

"Good luck with that," Rolanda Hooch laughed. "I've never seen anyone more meant to fly than that boy. I'd pay good money to see him play Quidditch. He'll have moves named after him, I can promise you that."

"Thank you everyone," Dumbledore sighed. "Minerva, I'll have a word with the boy about your class, and since Severus was unable to attend…"

Severus Snape entered the staff room interrupting the Headmaster. The normally dapper man was a disheveled mess. Unshaven, his hair stringy and flecked with dust, his normally perfect robes were dirty and barely fitting on his oddly emaciated form. "Sorry I'm late," he mumbled. "Working on a potion."

"Not at all, Severus," Dumbledore said happily. "We were discussing Little Guy. What are your impressions of him?"

Snape slumped into an open chair and looked up at Dumbledore with a glare. "I hate him, I hate everything about him. I hate you for going to wherever he was hiding and convincing him to come to this school."

"Severus!" Minerva scolded.

"Severus," Dumbledore sighed. "You really need to get over your childhood rivalry with James Potter, and instead remember that he is Lilly's son as well."

"This has absolutely nothing to do with James Bloody Potter!" Snape thundered before calming. "I hate the boy for himself, for his bright eyed naivety, for his cheerfulness, for his insane bloody skill with Potions, for the way he appears to love and respect me."

The staff went silent at his very odd rant.

"You're saying," Dumbledore said quietly, "that he's good with potions?"

"Little Guy Potter is not 'good with potions'," Snape snarled. "He is a fucking genius who follows none of the rule of my art and despite the garbage ingredients I foist off on first years because I know that the best of them will trash their brews, his potions are fucking perfect."

"Perhaps you should use the ingredients set aside for the upper forms to see just what he can do," Filius suggested.

"No!" Snape snapped. "I didn't say his potions were very good for the ingredients used, I said they were perfect. As if they had been brewed by a master brewer with years of experience in perfect conditions with perfect equipment and the very best, impossible to obtain freshest perfect ingredients. And… and if that wasn't bad enough, he does it in a fraction of the time required, in multi gallon quantities."

"Multi Gallon quantities?" Poppy Pomfrey asked. "Is that where you got the…"

"The boil cure, the Skellgrow, the burn salve, and every other potion you've asked for this year. He made four gallons of Skellgrow in nine minutes."

"But that potion takes two weeks to produce…" Poppy noted.

"A single dose, yes, I fucking know that!" Snape barked. "He uses rattles and bells and whistles and dances around in a Merlin-forsaken mask and he out classes me in my own art without even trying." The man collapsed forward onto the table his head on his arms, and he appeared to be sobbing.

"Severus…" Dumbledore said as he put his hand on the sobbing man's shoulder.

"The… The worst…" Snape searched for the words. "The worst part is that I tried to emulate his process… I tried to see if the boy's methods would work for me. That's why I was late. We were side by side, identical cauldrons, identical fires, identical ingredients. I matched him move for move, chant for chant, rattle for rattle noise maker for noise maker. He produced three gallons of a perfect polyjuice and I produced a substance that looked and smelled like the tar Muggles put on their roads. The boy took one look… one look and he said…" the man broke down into tears again."

"What did he say Severus?" Flitwick asked gently.

"He took one look… one look… and he said… 'needs more cowbell.'"

The assembled instructors did not know what to say to that and continued to watch their colleague sob for quite a while.

**oooOOOooo**

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Daphne Greengrass said as she left the castle as part of a group of first year girls.

"Relax Daphne," Susan Bones sighed. "Most of us have known each other for years, and now we're supposed to ignore each other because of the houses we were sorted into? That's stupid."

"Boy level stupid," Lavender Brown agreed. "Ron Weasley has been looking to pick a fight with Draco and Theo since the first night, all because of where they were sorted."

"You're lucky," Pansy Parkinson interjected. "None of you are betrothed to Weasley, I get to listen to all of Draco's stupid plots to ruin the Gryffindors and show the upper forms that he is to be respected."

"He does go on," Tracey Davis giggled.

"If he knew I was out for a day with Muggleborns and Half-bloods, I'd never hear the end of it," Pansy sighed, until she spotted Hermione Granger's expression. "Relax Granger; I don't share in that stupidity. My parents have business interests in several Muggle companies. I know how things work in the larger world. I have no problem with you or anyone else here."

"Why does it have to be like this?" Hermione asked.

"Believe me," Padma said. "It could be worse. The only thing the ruling elites hate more than Muggles and Muggleborn are foreigners like us."

"And we were born here, and so was our Da," Parvati added.

"That's why I want us to get together," Hannah explained. "And be friends, so maybe we won't have to deal with this kind of stupid our whole lives."

"It won't work," Morag MacDonald, said shaking her head.

"Maybe it won't," Millicent Bulstrode said quietly. "But it might, anyway, it probably won't hurt."

"Exactly," Hannah laughed. "Let that be our motto, 'it probably won't hurt'."

"There are worse goals," Su Li suggested before stopping dead in her tracks and pointing. "What is that?"

Following her gaze, the others saw a small figure being wrapped in tentacles and pulled under the surface of the Black Lake.

The group of first year girls exchanged a glance, and then as one, drew their wands and ran for the edge of the lake.

Upon arriving, they found the boy they knew as Little Guy standing waist deep in the water of the lake.

"Oh, you want more, eh?" He shouted as he dove into the water, only to surface moments later pulling a knotted mass of tentacles with him. "Little guy got you now, Squidley Fella!"

The boy stopped when he spotted the girls on the shore. "Oh, hey Fellas! Little Guy wrestling with Squidley fella, wanna join in? 10 arms, no waiting!"

"Squid have eight arms and two feeding tentacles," Hermione said without thinking, only to clamp her hand over her mouth.

"Ah, arms, tentacles, close enough for wrestling, Smart Fella," Little guy laughed before the squid freed itself and pulled him under the water again.

The boy surfaced covered in ink after the squid jetted away.

"Ha! That showed him," He laughed, then started groping around in the water, and finding what he was looking for, he began to soap himself up. "Sorry fellas, Squidley fella decided to run off for a while."

"What are you doing?" Daphne asked.

"Takin bath," the soapy boy said before dunking himself to wash off the foam. Upon surfacing he turned to show the girls his back. "Did Little Guy get all ink?"

"You got it all, Little Guy," Susan said hesitantly. "You should get out of the water before you freeze."

"Ok, Susan Fella," the boy said happily as he waded out of the water.

"You're naked?" Lavender shrieked?"

"Well, yeah," Little Guy said. "Takin' bath. Who takes bath in clothes?"

"Cover yourself!" Hannah demanded, looking away.

The rest of the girls, with the exception of Lavender, Parvati and Tracey, quickly followed her example, at least until the other girls noticed the leering trio and threw things at them.

**oooOOOooo**

"Don't understand," Little Guy said quietly.

He knew he had upset his friends, but was not sure how. They seemed to put a whole lot of importance in clothing. After he put a clean loincloth on, the fellas had calmed down.

"Little Guy," Susan Fella said gently, "you don't get naked around girls."

"Girls?" He asked vacantly. "What girls?"

His friends all looked at each other before Smart Fella answered. "We're girls."

"Okay," Little Guy nodded. "You fellas, girls. What girls?"

"I have brothers," the Fella who hung out with Draco Fella from the Snake Fellas' house a whole lot, said. "I think I can explain it to him so he'll understand."

"Pansy…" the big Fella from the Snake Fellas' house said cautiously.

"I'll be gentle," Pansy Fella said. "Little Guy, girls are different than boys."

"Okay," he nodded.

"You're a boy," she continued.

"Right," he nodded again. "Different how?"

She leaned forward and whispered in his ear.

"Really?" Little Guy asked.

"Yes," Pansy Fella nodded. Then she leaned forward again and whispered some more.

"What?" Little Guy shrieked. "How to you pee?"

More whispering and Little Guy jerked away in horror. "Mum is a girl?"

The conversation left Little Guy with much to think about.

**oooOOOooo**

A thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the candles in the pumpkins flicker. The feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, as it had at the start-of-term banquet.

Little Guy took all this in and wondered how the bats felt about being inside. This was such an odd holiday with giant vegetables and animals indoors; the Jungle Boy wasn't quite sure how to react to it.

As a rule, he disapproved of the whole 'in side' concept… but these folks with their cold weather did not have very many choices.

Little Guy started to reach for the platter that held lightly charred meat when he spotted the sneaky Professor Fella sprinting into the Great Hall, his turban oddly askew and an expression of terror on his face. By the time the DADA Professor reached the Headmaster, he had the attention of everyone in the Great Hall. The panting man slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll… in the dungeons… thought you ought to know."

The professor then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

The Great Hall descended into pandemonium for several seconds before Professor Dumbledore issues several noisemaker spells from his wand to bring silence.

"Prefects," he rumbled, "lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!"

Dutifully the Hufflepuff first years spotted and gathered around the pair of 5th years assigned to them.

"Everyone stay together," the male prefect said calmly. "We'll get you back to the dorm."

"Why troll come inside?" Harry asked Hannah as they descended the stairs to the Hufflepuff dorms.

"I don't know," Hannah said.

"They're supposed to be really stupid," Justin added. "Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke."

The Hufflepuffs passed different groups of students hurrying in different directions. As they jostled their way through a crowd of panicked Gryffindors, Susan suddenly grabbed Hannah's arm.

"I've just thought… Hermione," she said.

"What about her?"

"She doesn't know about the troll," Susan noted.

Little Guy sniffed the air, and frowned at the scent he caught, while he wondered what a 'hermione' might be.

"She must," Hannah said in a distressed tone.

"We should let someone know," Ernie announced as he surged through the crowd of Hufflepuffs toward the prefects.

Little Guy took in more of the mystery scent. "Troll not in dungeon," he said. "It above us."

"Are you sure?" Hannah Fella demanded. When Little Guy nodded, she brought her hand to her mouth. "Oh, no. Poor Hermione."

"What Hermione?" Little Guy asked.

"She's not a what," Justin Fella explained gently. "She's a person. You call her 'Smart Fella'."

"Little Guy friend in trouble?" Little Guy asked rhetorically. "Little Guy hunt!"

The Jungle Boy reached up to snag a vine that had just appeared as if to his call, and swung out of sight.

The First Years stood open mouthed for a moment. "Someone better tell the prefects," Susan said.

**oooOOOooo**

Hermione Granger tried to press herself into the smallest possible size, as she looked at the slobbering gargantuan move toward her, knocking the sinks off the walls with a huge club as it advanced.

She knew there was no escape. As large as it was, the creature demonstrated faster reflexes than she had ever had. Her only hope was that it might miss her if she did not move.

The huge… thing's eyes maintained a laser like focus on her, killing that hope. She was going to die.

Suddenly, the odd Hufflepuff, Little Guy, appeared between the giant… thing and Hermione, skidding to a stop in the middle of the flooded room.

"**Kreegah Bundola**!" the boy snarled threateningly, a long steel knife in his right hand. "**Kagoda**!"

Hermione blinked. Was this really happening? Had she gone insane?

**oooOOOooo**

Tee'Kath the troll stopped short in front of the tiny human. He blinked at the sight of a human who didn't run or scream, but who actually challenged a troll warrior.

This was unheard of. When he returned to the soup pots of his clan to tell this story, he would never be believed.

Moving to brush the defender aside with his club Tee'Kath was surprised when the tiny human leaped over the sweep of his club, and scampered up his arm, slicing deep into Tee'Kath's arm, in search of tendons. Fully focusing his attention to the human warrior, Tee'Kath swatted at the boy.

And missed.

But Tee'Kath was a warrior. Blood would never deflect him from his hunt, he moved to box the human in, but the thrice damned tiny warrior was far too agile for him to isolate. Still he tried, his free arm, his club, his feet, they all were used to try to crush what Tee'Kath now recognized as a human child.

After Tee'Kath was winded, the human warrior paused, and raised his right hand to his tiny mouth, inserted two digits, took a deep breath and blew out a piercing two-tone whistle. This odd move confused Tee'Kath more than anything so far in the confrontation. Was that supposed to be a distraction? A signal for help? A weapon?

The Troll abandoned the worry that had blossomed in his mind when he raised his club once more. That was when he felt more than heard an odd sound.

A deep rumble rolled through the human's stone structure. The sound drew closer and increase in volume, then a new sound joined the first, an odd quavering sound that echoed in Tee'Kath's ears. It was getting closer.

Forgetting the human, Tee'Kath turned his attention to the wooden entrance to the chamber in time to see it explode inward, and the stone walls around it as they crumbled as a huge… something entered the room.

This new creature's eyes were tiny, red and evil. For the first time since his first hunt, Tee'Kath knew fear. A single muscular arm reached for the Troll, and a pair of huge tusks, far larger than Tee'Kath's or any troll's locked his arms to his sides. Tee'Kath found himself suddenly airborne. This experience of flight was exceedingly short, as before Tee'kath could wrap his mind around not being in contact with the ground, he found himself painfully slammed to the floor.

Howling with pain, Tee'Kath twisted and flailed to no avail. The huge beast stood over the troll's prone body and… sat down. Tee'Kath found himself barely able to breathe, and with a short bristled tail before his eyes, wagging back and forth.

What had just happened?

**oooOOOooo**

Hermione crawled out from her hiding place barely able to believe her eyes and in a rare incident of cross species understanding was asking herself the same exact question.

"L… L… Little Guy?" she stammered.

The boy turned his attention from the creature he had been fussing over. "You safe now, Smart Fella," he said with that easy grin of his. "Little Guy and Spot have got troll fella calmed down now."

"Sp… Sp…," she tried and failed to calm herself and swallowed noisily. "You named your elephant, Spot?"

"Elephant?" Little Guy looked around the ruined room. "What elephant?"

Hermione raised her arm and pointed at the elephant in the room. "That elephant."

"This is Spot, son of Shep." Little Guy insisted.

"Spot is an elephant," Hermione insisted.

"Are you feeling ok, Smart Fella?" Little Guy asked, obviously concerned for her mental state. "Spot is my Doggie."

"Doggie?" she asked, feeling faint.

"Oh yes!" the boy exclaimed and he turned back to his pet, who was panting happily. Scratching behind the panting pachyderms left ear he explained, "Spot's a big grey peanut loving puppy, yes he is. He's a good boy!"

Hermione's sanity stretched to near its breaking point when Spot's left hind leg began to thump involuntarily in time with the ear scratches.

**oooOOOooo**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I do not own Harry Potter. Nor any of the Jay Ward Productions Characters mentioned herein. But you knew that.**

**Little Guy**

**Detention**

Neville at her side, Hermione exited the common room at eleven o'clock and made her way to the entrance. Together, they found the caretaker, Mr. Filch the caretaker waiting for them. Sadly, that vile cretin, Draco Malfoy was also there, on time for once.

As far as Hermione was concerned, the only justice in the whole situation was that Malfoy had gotten a detention as well.

"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside.

"I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" the caretaker said, leering at them. His wide smile assured Hermione that he had never partaken of the services of any of her parents' colleagues. "Oh yes… hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me… It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out… hang you from the ceiling by your wrists for a few days, I've still got the chains we used to use in my office, keep 'em well-oiled in case they're ever needed… Right, off we go, and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."

"What kind of oil?" Neville asked.

Filch stopped in his tracks. Wheeling about he stuck his lamp in Neville's face and hissed, "What do you mean by that?"

"You said you kept the chains oiled," Neville responded shyly. "I was just wondering what kind of oil you used… As a professional, I mean."

"What?" Filch asked.

"I mean, my Gran swears by Grillsby's Penetrating oil for her metal chains," the boy continued. "But I've always found Grillsby's causes horrible stains on the leather attachments… and of course on the oak frames."

Neville then seemed to realize the looks he was receiving from the old man and his two classmates. "What? Gran's an enthusiast."

Filch just blinked then turned to continue to march them across the dark grounds. Hermione could not keep herself from alternating between wondering what the punishment was going to entail and wondering if Neville was really someone she wanted to hang out with.

There was no moon, but clouds scudding across the sky were clearly visible against the stars. Ahead, Hermione could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. Then they heard a distant shout.

"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want ter get started."

Hermione's heart rose; if they were going to be working with Hagrid it wouldn't be so bad. Probably. Her relief must have shown on her face, because Filch said, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, missy… it's into the forest you're going and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."

At this, Neville let out a little moan, and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

"The forest?" he repeated, and he did not sound quite as arrogant as usual. "We can't go in there at night… there's all sorts of things in there… werewolves, I heard."

Neville clutched the sleeve of Hermione's robe and made a choking noise.

"That's your problem, isn't it?" said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, his wolfhound, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of bolts hung over his shoulder.

"Abou' time," he said. "I bin waitin' fer half an hour already. All right, Neville, Hermione?"

"I shouldn't be too friendly to them, Hagrid," said Filch coldly, "they're here to be punished, after all."

"That's why yer late, is it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them, eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."

"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

Malfoy now turned to Hagrid.

"I'm not going in that forest," he said, and Hermione was almost pleased to hear the panic in his voice.

"Yeh are if yeh want ter stay at Hogwarts," said Hagrid fiercely. "Yeh've done wrong an' now yeh've got ter pay fer it."

"But this is servant stuff, it's not for students to do. I thought we'd be copying lines or something, if my father knew I was doing this, he'd…"

"Lucius Malfoy would be the first ter tell yer that's how it is at Hogwarts," Hagrid growled. "Copyin' lines! What good's that ter anyone? Yeh'll do summat useful or yeh'll get out. If yeh think yer father'd rather you were expelled, then get back off ter the castle an' pack. Go on."

Malfoy did not move. He glared at Hagrid furiously, but then dropped his gaze.

"Right then," said Hagrid, "now, listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."

He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest.

"Look there," Hagrid said, holding his lamp high, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

"And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?" Malfoy asked.

As much as she disliked the Slytherin, Hermione could not help but wonder the same thing.

"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. "An' keep ter the path. Right, we're goin' ter follow the trail. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."

"All right then? I'd best warn yeh about Fang, he's a coward, if he starts runnin' it's probably for a good reason." Hagrid explained. "So we're all goin' ter stick together. Now, if any of yez sees anythin', just let me know… so, be careful an' let's go."

The forest was black and silent. A little way into it they reached a fork in the earth path, so Hermione, Malfoy, Neville, and Fang huddled together and followed Hagrid when he took the right fork.

They walked in silence, their eyes on the ground. Every now and then, the light of Hagrid's swinging lamp lit a spot of shimmering silver blood on the fallen leaves.

Hermione could see that Hagrid appeared to be quite worried.

"_Could _a werewolf be killing the unicorns?" Hermione whispered.

"Where wolf?" a new voice asked.

Hagrid wheeled in place and had his crossbow cocked and aimed at the voice faster than Hermione ever imagined he could move.

"Hi ya Hagrid Fella," Little Guy said happily as he dropped out of the forest canopy and landed on Hagrid's massive shoulder. "There no wolves in the forest, Little Guy looked."

"We're not lookin' fer wolves, Little Guy," said Hagrid said gently as if having a boy land on him out of the dark was an everyday occurrence. "Werewolves. Cursed men and women who lose themselves to their curse under full moons. But no, Hermione, werewolves aren't fast enough. It's not easy ter catch a unicorn, they're powerful magic creatures. I never knew one ter be hurt before."

"What are you doing here, Potter?" Malfoy asked regaining some of his bravado in the presence of the boy he imagined to be his rival.

"Little Guy hunt food," the jungle boy said with a shrug. "Elf fellas fix food good, but sometimes Little Guy needs to honor food fellas with blood and sweat."

Little Guy jumped to the forest floor, and sniffed curiously as the shimmering silver blood the group had been following. "This scent everywhere in forest. Smell like blood, but color wrong. What this, Hagrid Fella?"

"Unicorn blood," Hagrid explained. "Summat's been huntin' an' killin' unicorns.

"Rino-Horsie fellas?" Little Guy asked.

Hagrid nodded at the odd name offered. Hermione opened her mouth to correct the Jungle Boy, but suddenly realized that to someone raised without the Grecian myths, seeing a horn and associating it with an animal he was familiar with was a reasonable thing to do.

"You heading wrong way," Little Guy said. "Rino-Horsie fellas plenty smart. This fella, hurtin', he doubling back on tracks to throw hunter off," he pointed to an indistinct marking in the forest loam. "See how front of hoof mark deeper than back? Rino-Horsie fella walking backwards in own tracks."

"Well, I'll be," Hagrid whispered in amazement. "Yer right. Don' worry, it can't've gone far if it's this badly hurt, an' then we'll be able ter… GET BEHIND THAT TREE!"

Hagrid seized Hermione and pulled her off the path behind a towering oak, while Neville and Malfoy scrambled to follow. The half giant pulled out an arrow and fitted it into his crossbow, raising it, ready to fire. They listened to the odd sound coming from the darkness, the sound of something being dragged over the dry leaves nearby.

"That sound like wizard robes dragging on ground," Little Guy noted. "Long stride, probably grown fella."

It was only then that Hagrid noticed that the mostly naked Hufflepuff had not moved from where he had been crouching to examine the unicorn tracks and blood. The only sign of alarm caused by the noises in the dark was the long knife that was now in his hand.

"I knew it," he murmured. "There's summat in here that shouldn' be."

"A werewolf?" Malfoy suggested fearfully.

"That wasn' no werewolf an' it wasn' no unicorn, neither," said Hagrid grimly. "Right, follow me, but careful, now. Little Guy, yeh should head back ter the castle, this is a detention and yeh've earned none."

"No need to worry Hagrid Fella," the jungle boy said happily. "Little Guy hunt since before he could swing on vine."

The boy vanished into the darkness before Hagrid could muster an argument. The half giant shrugged and gestured for the students to follow him. They walked more slowly now, ears straining for the faintest sound. Suddenly, in a clearing ahead, something definitely moved.

"Who's there?" Hagrid called. "Show yerself… I'm armed!"

Into the clearing walked a centaur. A man with red hair and beard to the waist, but below that was a horse's gleaming chestnut body with a long, reddish tail. Hermione's jaw dropped.

"Oh, it's you, Ronan," said Hagrid in relief. "How are yeh?"

He walked forward and shook the centaur's hand.

"Good evening to you, Hagrid," said Ronan. He had a deep, sorrowful voice. "Were you going to shoot me?"

"Can't be too careful, Ronan," said Hagrid, patting his crossbow. "There's summat bad loose in this forest. This is Draco Malfoy, Neville Longbottom an' Hermione Granger, by the way. Students up at the school. An' this is Ronan, you three. He's a centaur.

"No, really?" Draco snarked.

"Good evening," said Ronan. "Students, are you? And do you learn much, up at the school?"

"A bit," said Hermione timidly.

"A bit. Well, that's something." Ronan sighed. He flung back his head and stared at the sky. "Mars is bright tonight."

"Of course Mars bright, Horse Fella," Little Guy's voice came from the forest canopy, startling the centaur and inspiring aloud squeak from Hermione. The boy lowered himself on one of his ever-present vines until he hung upside down with his head at the same level as the startled centaur. "Cold clear night with no moon, Venus already set and Jupiter not yet rise, Mars will be bright."

"Yeah," Hagrid said while Hermione wondered if the boy was knew he had just insulted Ronan.

"This is Little Guy, Ronan," Hagrid continued, changing the subject. "Listen, I'm glad we've run inter yeh, 'cause there's a unicorn bin hurt… you seen anythin'?"

Ronan did not answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly into the eyes of the nearly naked boy, before sighing.

"Always the innocent are the first victims," he said. "So it has been for ages past, so it is now."

"Yeah," said Hagrid, "but have yeh seen anythin' Ronan? Anythin' unusual?"

"Mars is bright tonight," Ronan repeated, while Hagrid watched him impatiently. "Unusually bright."

"Yeah, but I was meanin' anythin' unusual a bit nearer ter home," said Hagrid. "So yeh haven't noticed anythin' strange?"

Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, "The forest hides many secrets."

A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur, black-haired and - bodied and wilder-looking than Ronan.

"Hullo, Bane," said Hagrid. "All right?"

"Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?" The latest centaur asked, his eyes locked with the boy hanging from a vine.

"Well enough. Look, I've jus' bin askin' Ronan, you seen anythin' odd in here lately? There's a unicorn bin injured — would yeh know anythin' about it?"

Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He looked skyward. "Mars is bright tonight," he said simply.

The sound of wings interrupted anything else the centaur Bane might have had to say. All eyes focused on the large blue bird that landed on a nearby branch.

"**AH AH EE EE TOOKIE TOOKIE**!" The Tookie Tookie bird said urgently.

"Thanks Tookie!" Little Guy said before returning his attention to Hagrid. "Tookie say Rino-horsie fella in trouble. Little Guy Hunt!"

"Little Guy wait!" Hagrid called into the darkness that appeared to have swallowed the boy. "Sorry Ronan, Bane, we've got to help the unicorn."

The half giant barreled down the path in the direction the boy had vanished, followed, after the slightest bit of hesitation, by the three remaining students.

Alone in the clearing, the two centaur exchanged a look. "Humans," Bane laughed.

"**AH AH EE EE TOOKIE TOOKIE**?" Tookie suggested.

Infuriated Bane wheeled to face the magical jungle bird. "I have no desire to discuss atmospherics and their effect on the apparent brightness of celestial bodies," he sneered. "Especially not with some witless bird."

"**AH AH EE EE TOOKIE TOOKIE**!" Tookie responded with an avian smirk before taking wing into the dark sky.

"And it is not 'my loss' you arrogant feather head!" Bane bellowed at the sky.

**oooOOOooo**

Having finally pulled the unicorn to the ground, Quirrel slit the beast's throat and drank deeply. Voldemort forced his minion to allow him to drink himself.

He was interrupted by an inhuman warbling scream, followed by a small form flying through the air over his head. A small form that impacted face first into an ancient oak.

"Owe!" the boy Voldemort recognized from Quirrel's class said, picking himself up from the forest floor. "Hey Professor Fella, why are you killing rino-horsie fellas?"

"Are you ready to die boy?" Voldemort asked.

"Always," the boy responded. "Death is part of life. Why are you killing rino-horsie fellas?"

Quirrel turned his back on the child, allowing his master to face the boy.

"Harry Potter, the boy who lived," he hissed menacingly. "It is time I showed the lie of that claim."

Both Quirrel and his master were shocked by the way the child dodged each of the spells cast by their common wand. "Professor Fella better give up before Little Guy has to get rough."

Voldemort snarled a Killing Curse, which the boy dodged by vanishing into the forest canopy.

An inhuman call echoed in the darkness, and then nothing.

"Did you hit him, Master?" Quirrel asked the wraith on the back of his skull.

"The killing curse kills, fool," Voldemort spat. He really needed a better class of minion. "It doesn't make you climb a tree and scream."

Staying on their guard, the conjoined duo searched the treetops for any sign of the child. Then they heard something odd.

A distant rumbling, one that seemed to be steadily getting louder.

"Master?" Quirrel asked, his fear mounting.

"Be ready," Voldemort commanded, raising their common wand to the ready, just as the first of the Thestral herd emerged from the forest into the clearing. The combined duo fell beneath the hooves of the herd as they passed through the clearing. Both avoided major injury, but both ended up being kicked in the face several times.

Quirrel staggered to his feet, nursing his bleeding nose as yet another animalistic scream echoed in the forest.

"What is that?" Voldemort asked, looking around warily. "Defend us!"

"My wand!" the DADA Instructor said as he spotted that the wand he had purchase at eleven now hung in two pieces, connected only by a tattered sliver of dragon heartstring.

"What happened?" His Master demanded when the first of the hippogriff herd entered the clearing and the body sharing pair fell beneath the stampeding herd's talons and paws.

The two villains screamed in terror as the claws and talons tore at their shared body.

**oooOOOooo**

Hagrid arrived at the clearing in time to see the hippogriff herd disappear into the trees. He held up his lantern to shed light on the area. The presence of the slaughtered unicorn horrified him, but the mangled form of the man who was clearly one of his colleagues caused him to rush forward, with the three students and Fang following closely behind.

Quirrel was struggling to stand despite his obviously shattered left leg. That was when Hagrid discovered the horror that had attached itself to the back of the man's head.

"Stay back, Hagrid Fella," Little Guy's voice pulled Hagrid up short and he looked around for the boy.

Little Guy descended from the canopy directly on top of Quirrel, upon landing he slapped a handful of tree resin directly onto the exposed face of Voldemort.

"Mabaya roho kufuli!" the boy chanted. The resin glowed blue for a moment, before turning a deep amber and solidifying. "That take care of Evil Spirit, Professor Fella," he said to the injured Quirrel, conjuring a knife. "Do you surrender now, or does Little Guy have to get rough?"

**oooOOOooo**

Hagrid struggled to cover his responsibilities as a member of Hogwarts staff and those of a citizen of Magical Britain. Wanting to keep the children as far as possible from a professor seemingly possessed by the ghost of a Dark Lord, and the fact that without the aid of Little Guy, there was no way he could have subdued the wizard.

"Fang," he said to his faithful, if cowardly dog, "Yeh need to protect the students. Yeh lot, yeh need to follow me from a good distance, an' if yeh see him get away from me, fer Merlin's sake, run to the castle."

"But Hagrid," Hermione protested, "we couldn't just leave you."

"Yeh can an' yeh will," the half giant said sternly. "Malfoy, yeh an' Neville see tha' she does, carry her if need be."

The Malfoy scion just kept staring at the frozen face of the on the back of Quirrel's head. "Is that… is that the Dark Lord?"

"There's no reason to worry, Blondie Fella," Little Guy said helpfully. "Evil spirit isn't gonna hurt anyone. Secret is amber."

"But, where did you get amber?" Hermione asked, peeking around Hagrid's massive frame.

"Made it," Little Guy explained. "Gathered resin from trees, covered Evil Spirit with it, then aged with spell."

Hagrid opened his mouth to order the students back to the castle when a new call grabbed everyone's attention.

"**AH AH EE EE TOOKIE TOOKIE**!" The Tookie Tookie Bird said in an expert tone.

"So, you're saying," the wandering Centaur upon whose shoulder the bird was perched said, "that the apparent brightness of Mars or any of the other planets is dependent upon the clarity of the air, the observers' elevation above sea level, and the inclination of the observed object above the horizon?"

"**AH AH EE EE TOOKIE TOOKIE**!" Tookie confirmed with a nod.

"But wouldn't that mean…" the Centaur suddenly noticed that he and the bird were not alone in the clearing. "Oh, hello Hagrid."

"Mornin', Firenze," Hagrid greeted his friend.

"Morning?" The Centaur asked, looking about. "Yes, I suppose it is. What brings you to the forest at this hour Hagrid?"

"Tryin' to find out what was huntin' an' killin' the unicorns," Hagrid explained.

"Ah," Firenze nodded. "And you were successful, I see. You brought children on such a task?"

"These three earned detentions," Hagrid nodded toward Little Guy, "and tha' one was hunting."

"I doubt I will ever truly understand you wizards," Firenze sighed. "My own ramblings this night introduced me to this wonderful bird."

"Tookie always makes friends," Little Guy chimed in.

"**AH AH EE EE TOOKIE TOOKIE**," Tookie explained, returning to his original point.

"Well, that goes without saying," the Jungle Boy agreed. "Everyone knows that the closer object is to the horizon, the more air have to look through, and the more view degrades. Come on Tookie, be serious."

In the dim light, it almost appeared that the bird blushed. "**AH AH EE EE TOOKIE TOOKIE**," it said in a tone that suggested apology.

"Wait, wait, wait," Firenze protested. "Are you trying to tell me that even perfectly clear air will defuse light because of scattering?"

"**AH AH EE EE TOOKIE TOOKIE**," The Tookie Tookie bird confirmed.

"Well," Little Guy temporized, "Effect is stronger for blue light than for red, which is why the daytime sky blue and why Mars brighter sometimes. If no scattering, the sky would be black even at noon."

Hagrid quietly hefted Quirrel into his arms and motioned for his detention students to follow him, leaving the Bird, boy and Centaur to discuss the sky.

None of them felt the need to protest.

**oooOOOooo**

"He captured Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked for perhaps the twentieth time, staring at his Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, the aforementioned teacher in a full body bind and physically tied to a chair.

Quirrel was bandaged, but Poppy had refused to heal him.

Amelia Bones glared at the Headmaster as she cleaned her monocle. "And where is Mr. Potter now?"

"He wants to be known as Little Guy," Pomona Sprout explained.

"I can hardly call 'Little Guy' to testify before the Wizengamet," Amelia protested.

"For formal occasions, he goes by Little Guy of the Jungle," Pomona noted.

"Oh, that's so much better," Amelia sniffed. "I still want to know where he is."

"When I last saw him," Hagrid explained. "He was discussin' atmos… atmos… the sky with his Tookie Tookie bird and Firenze the Centaur."

"Of course he is," Amelia sighed. "All right, Hagrid, are you certain you want to claim that an eleven year old did this much damage to a fully qualified Wizard? He appears to have been beaten to within an inch of his life."

"I know it looks like I did it, Madam Bones," Hagrid admitted, "Merlin's Beard! I wish I had done it, but no, it was all Little Guy. He called in herds o' animals an' they trampled poor Quirrel."

Amelia nodded before turning to her Aurors. "Shacklebolt, escort the Professor and his… guest, to our most secure cell, and then plant yourself in front of it. No one gets in to see him without me being with them. And, yes, that includes the Unspeakables."

"Got it boss," Shacklebolt said with a nod, happy to be getting out of close proximity to so many important people.

Amelia waited until her Aurors were out of the Headmaster's office before slumping into the chair Quirrel had so recently vacated.

She started massaging her brow. "He Who Must Not Be Named is back, possesses a Hogwarts Professor, kills at least two Unicorns, and he's trapped and captured by the eleven year old that killed him last time. What have I done to make you people hate me so much?"

"Amelia," Minerva McGonagall said gently, "It's not always about you."

"He captured Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked for the twenty first time.

"I think Albus is broken," Pomona noted.

"That's what happens when people don't conform to his expectations," Minerva sighed. "You should have seen him the night Fudge was elected."

"I'll need the Potter boy to teach my Aurors that amber trick, just in case," Amelia sighed.

"Good luck with that," Pomona laughed. "From Hagrid's description of what he did, Little Guy didn't use English or Latin to case his spell. It must be one of the languages of his home land."

"And you need to understand the language to cast in it," Amelia sighed. "I remember first year Pomona. Well, now that we know it's possible, we can turn it over to the Unspeakables as a project."

"He captured Voldemort?" Dumbledore repeated.

"What is his problem with He Who Must Not Be Named being captured?" Amelia asked. "Wasn't that the reason he sought out the Potter boy?"

"From what I've been able to figure out from his notes," Minerva sighed, "Albus expected an end of year confrontation, and even then only after Little Guy had learned a few lessons from him. And even then, he expected You Know Who to escape."

"He captured Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, you stupid old man," Minerva hissed. "He captured Vol… Voldemort. And he did it without you."

"And I can't even charge you with anything," Amelia snarled, "because even though your scheming and plotting is certainly immoral, it isn't illegal."

"But he captured Voldemort," Dumbledore said, "what do I do now?"

**oooOOOooo**

The assembled first years sat patiently in a classroom none of them had ever seen before.

Hermione had been unaware that there was a classroom at Hogwarts large enough to hold an entire year, but it was.

She stopped looking around the large room when the four Heads of House appeared at the front of the classroom.

Professor Snape, looking a bit worn, stepped in front of his fellows and cleared his throat. Instantly, the room went silent.

"Students, we are fortunate to have among us in this class a potions savant, one with skills in my learned art that even I cannot match. Those of you in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff have already witnessed his technique."

"After much discussion," Professor McGonagall said, "it was decided that we would offer all of you a chance to witness his process. If for no other reason than to show you aspects of other magical traditions."

"Little Guy," the woman called. "If you will?"

The boy emerged from behind the professors and produced a large camp fire from… somewhere, followed by a huge cauldron and a mask large enough to cover his body, leaving only his arms and legs exposed.

A drum beat started as the boy danced around the cauldron throwing potions ingredients in with no apparent plan or pattern. Occasionally chanting, ringing bells, blowing whistles and doing odd percussion solos.

Hermione found her inner social warrior coming to the surface. "Oh, Dean," she said, "I'm so sorry."

"What?" the Eastender asked, clearly confused. "What are you sorry for?"

"This mockery of your people's traditions," she explained.

"My people?" Dean asked incredulously. "Woman, I'm from London, just like my Mum and Da'. My grandparents, all of them came from Jamaica. Whatever Little Guy's doing, it isn't a tradition of 'my people'."

"Besides," Seamus interjected, "according to Little Guy, the Witch Doctors that trained him are white."

"And Jewish," Anthony Goldstein added. "Mbebwe is a weird place, evidently."

**oooOOOooo**

Cleaning up after the presentation had fallen to Severus Snape.

He didn't mind. He had come to the conclusion that this would likely be his life. If the other children could learn to do potions in the way of the Jungle, cleaning up was likely to be the only career left for him.

As he waved his wand to vanish the residue of so many students using an unused auditorium for the first time, he wondered if Argus Filch might need an apprentice.

The Son of James Potter had captured a reborn Dark Lord. Despite being privy to Albus' plans, Severus never really thought it could possibly happen.

Satisfied that the room was ready for the Castle's elves to return to an unused condition, he moved back to the front of the room, and for the first time approached the cauldron, still warm from the fire of the demonstration.

He lifted the lid on the huge vessel and looked inside.

Of course. He shouldn't have expected anything less. The boy had worked on it for almost seven minutes.

Severus levitated the cauldron in front of himself as he exited the room, wondering what he was going to do with five gallons of Liquid Luck.

It was a prime example of the power of irony that while levitating a cauldron of Felix Felicis, Severus Snape tripped and fell, his head smacking hard against the cauldron.

The impact knocked Snape unconscious, it also cause the levitated vessel to flip upside down and dump its contents on his insensate form before the levitation charm ended and the cauldron fell to hit him on the head again, coming to an ultimate rest with his head inside the cauldron, soaking in what little of the Liquid Luck that remained inside.

He lay in this state for 37 and ¼ minutes before, through an accident of sheer luck he was found and taken to the Medical ward for healing before any permanent damage was done.

**oooOOOooo**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I do not own Harry Potter. Nor any of the Jay Ward Productions Characters mentioned herein. But you knew that.**

**Little Guy**

**Lucky Man**

Severus Snape knew that something was very wrong when he woke in the hospital ward, feeling… good.

This was highly unusual for the man. He had felt good a sum total of three times since he had driven Lily Evans from his life. He had never cared for the feeling.

He sat up in the bed, slightly disturbed to find that he was in a white nightshirt. Yet another thing he had never liked, white clothing. Everything he owned was either black or grey, as fitting a professional. Wearing white was so… frivolous.

"Severus!"

"Poppy," the dour man responded in a confused tone. "How did I come to be under your care?"

"You were found in a hallway after Little Guy's potions demonstration, unconscious with your head in an empty cauldron."

"An empty cauldron?" Severus asked, as dim memories of levitating a massive… something returned. "Was I attacked?"

"All indications are that you slipped and fell, causing the cauldron to fall on you," Poppy admitted nervously. "More importantly than that, something has happened."

"Happened?" the man asked. "What has 'happened'?"

A clearly embarrassed Poppy Pomfrey produced a mirror and held it so that Severus could see himself.

Severus Snape was many things, but first and foremost, he was a man who was honest with his self-image. To say that he was shocked by the change in his appearance would be an understatement. His dark greasy hair was gone, replaced by a golden halo of waves.

His hair was not blonde, but golden, almost metallic in its shine and luster. His skin no longer held his characteristic pallor, rather he was bronzed like the Muggle neighbors he remembered from his childhood after they returned from a summer holiday in Majorca.

Severus looked up into Poppy's eyes. "What have you done to me?" he whispered.

"I didn't do _that_ to you," she said, "the changes to your hair and the skin pigmentation was all present when you were brought in." Hesitantly, she raised her wand and wordlessly cast a spell that caused the nightshirt to fall from his shoulders. "This is what I did to you, and I'm so very sorry Severus."

Severus' eyes widened when he looked back to the mirror. His body was changed, somehow he had gained a substantial amount of body mass, and his frame, seemingly near starvations since his early teens, had suddenly changed to that of a body builder. He watched in horror when he noted that when he moved, he could see his newly enhance muscles rippling under his bronzed skin, his pectorals, firm and muscular, flowed into a flat stomach sculpted into what was known as a 'six pack' though the meaning of the term had always escaped him. Hesitantly he lifted the bottom of the nightshirt and dared to survey below his waist.

The changes and did he imagine, enhancements continued downward to his feet.

"You were heavily concussed when you were brought in so I fed you the Uulnere potion. Then, after I realized that you weren't likely to wake for several days," Poppy hesitated before soldiering on, "I dosed you with several high density nutrient potions."

"Clyburn's Syndrome," Severus breathed. "Potions based body sculpting."

"I thought it was safe, only one case in ten million is triggered by mixing those potions. Instead of just healing you, this happened. The worst case Healer Stewart from St. Mungo's has ever seen," Poppy explained. "And the only full body case ever reported."

"I see," Severus nodded. "I find myself in need to the toilet, may I use the facilities, or must I endure the indignity of a bedpan?"

"Severus," Poppy said in a slightly scolding manner, "you know that as a victim of Clyburn's Syndrome, you are one of the healthiest people alive. The only reason you were still in one of my beds is that you were unconscious."

Severus nodded and covered himself in the nightshirt he made his way to the Hospital ward toilet. Once inside and behind the locked door he lowered the nightshirt and examined himself in the full length mirror.

He looked to be a statue of a Grecian god, made flesh. Severus leaned forward, pressing his head against the cold glass and struggled to remember what had happened.

Whatever it had been, Severus Snape was willing to bet his right arm that it had something to do with James Potter's son.

**oooOOOooo**

Making his way through the castle was an exercise in frustration. Severus made it almost thirty feet from the hospital wing before he was spotted in the hallways.

The looks that the Head girl gave him was unsettling. At first it had been one of surprise, which quickly changed into one of… something. Almost… hunger.

Most disconcerting.

His first inclination had been to go to his quarters, but the changes in his body coupled with the way the girl had looked at him preyed upon his mind. This demanded that he find a way to calm himself.

His potions lab was the only answer, as it always had been.

As he made his way to the proper staircase on the third floor, Severus wondered if Albus had taken down the challenges intended to protect the Stone yet.

His musings were interrupted by an all too familiar animalistic scream, followed by the small form of James Potter's son flying past him at high speed only to impact into the stone wall.

Against all odds, rather than being horribly injured by the collision, the boy simply rubbed his nose, saying "Owe!"

"Hey ya, Potions Professor Fella," the boy said happily as he trotted over. "Something change with your scent…" the boy got closer and his eyes widened, "Whoa! What happen to you?"

"Potions mishap," Severus said quietly.

"Oh," the boy nodded. "Hate those, blew up cauldron once, made everything taste blue for three days. At least know why scent change."

"I have to be going, Little Guy," Severus said, remembering that he wanted to cultivate the boy and his potions ability and so biting back his natural instinct to abuse James Potter's son. "I have some potions brewing that need my attention."

"Need help?" the boy asked.

Severus Snape had never experienced a student who genuinely liked him, and now that he had, he found he hated the experience. "No, these are research projects that I must attend to on my own."

"'kay," the boy said, reaching up for one of his magically generated vines, "Have fun Potions Professor Fella."

Snape stood silently as the boy vanished into the rafters and shook his head.

He then squared his shoulders and made his way to his potions lab.

**oooOOOooo**

Carefully ladling the result of his efforts into a crystal vial, Severus felt the well-deserved satisfaction of a difficult task performed well. Placing the vial on a storage rack, his eye caught his carefully researched procedural recipe and his blood ran cold.

Step 43 called for him to have stirred the brew with a pewter rod for 18 seconds. He couldn't recall having done it in between simmering the brew and adding the troll saliva. He reached for his tool roll.

In horror, he verified the pewter rod had not been used at all. Not only was it dry, but it lacked the distinctive blue and yellow stains of the potion.

But the end result was perfect, one of the best he had ever produced. How was that possible? The missed step was vital to the end product.

He caught his reflection in one of the specimen jars on the wall.

What had James Potter's son made at that demonstration? What had the boy done to him?

He picked up his Master Potions Index and selected a page at random.

Severus gathered the necessary ingredients and brought them to his workstation. He then read through the instructions to find the most crucial step in the process.

Marking that step carefully, he began the potion. Step by step he worked his way through the process until several hours later he reached the point he had judged to be the most important. Severus ignored that one step and moved on to the next.

Four hours later the delicate potion was complete. And perfect.

Severus sat in his chair, staring at his workbench in deep thought. Two potions, each with a critical step missed and the result was a perfect potion.

As perfect as the ones done by James Potter's son.

A nagging thought came to him and he conjured a mirror so as to examine his features.

He was still bronzed, his hair still appeared to be spun gold. Suspicion grew in his mind. Severus rose from his chair and pulled a bronze knife from his tool roll and scraped the skin on his left arm until he had a small sample of his dead skin.

He didn't know what the boy had done to him, but Severus Snape was going to find out.

**oooOOOooo**

Albus Dumbledore found his Potions Master almost four hours after the dour man missed the evening meal. Severus was sitting on the floor in the corner of his private potions lab, giggling to himself.

"Severus," the old man said gently, "I know that the changes you've been through on top of Voldemort being captured has been stressful to you, but you'll get through this."

"Felix Felicis," Snape murmured.

"Excuse me?" Albus asked. "I didn't catch that."

"Felix Felicis," the man laughed. "That's what the Potter boy brewed at his demonstration isn't it?"

"Well, yes," Albus admitted. "You stored the potion away didn't you?"

"I don't think so," Snape giggled. "I think I was levitating the full cauldron when I fell."

"But there was no residue…"

Snape gestured to himself. "It's in me. All of it."

"You drank all of it?" Albus demanded.

"I didn't drink any of it," Snape laughed. "I absorbed it. All of it. The tan, the hair, I am literally a walking talking source of liquid luck."

Dumbledore blinked. Suddenly the changes in is friend made sense. "How long will it last?"

Snape shrugged. "No idea, right now it appears to be maintaining a constant level in my flesh. I purposely bled myself for a pint sample. Inside of fifteen minutes I luckily regained my normal blood volume and there was no detectable dip in the amount of Felix Felicis in my system."

"So, it could be…" Albus hesitated, "permanent?"

"That would be lucky, wouldn't it?" Snape asked.

"Are you susceptible to the downside of frequent usage of Felix Felicis?"

Severus' brow furrowed for a moment while he considered the question. "I don't know, I've been under the influence of the Felicis for almost 18 hours now. Luckily, I've experienced nothing but the good side of luck."

"Well…" Albus hesitated again, "this would open avenues in Potions research for you…"

Severus offered a course laugh. "No, it will not," He disagreed. "I've been brewing potions all day. It doesn't matter what I do, the potions turn out perfect. Miss steps, not a problem. Substitute ingredients that have nothing to do with the potion I'm brewing, it works out. Nothing I do can be replicated, because it doesn't matter what I do, I succeed. Lucky isn't it?"

Albus stepped back. Severus Snape had always found his self-worth in his skills. To have his hard won skills suddenly not matter…

Would the man continue to find life worth living?

"I'm so very lucky," Severus giggled, wrapped his arms around his legs and began to rock to and fro.

**oooOOOooo**

Severus Snape trudged through the snow. As a member of the Hogwarts staff, it was his responsibility to act as a chaperone during Hogsmeade weekends.

No matter how his life was falling apart, Severus insisted on doing his duty.

His required time supervising the children was over. It was his habit of long standing to celebrate the end of his shift by having a drink at the three Broomsticks. This, however, was made unbearable by the women who suddenly found him desirable. School girls, one as young as 4th year, so many 7th years even the bulk of his female Slytherins, adult witches, two different wizards and even Rosmerta herself had come to him offering their bodies, some coyly, others outright.

Had he believed even for a moment that it was him they were attracted to he might have been tempted, even though he hadn't truly been attracted to any woman since Lily Evans. But that wasn't what was happening. His damnable luck was pulling them to him. And his ego could not allow that.

Escaping the bar, he made his way to the pickup point for the carriages to Hogwarts. There he spotted several of his pursuers.

He hesitated for a moment. He could have depended upon his professorial status to keep them at bay, but decided that he didn't need the aggravation, and set out for the walk to the castle.

Severus' left foot struck something in the snow, causing him to fall forward. He picked himself up with a curse and looked to see what had tripped him. He dusted the snow from the obstacle and found a bag of galleons.

Again? This was the fourth one today.

It was just too much for Severus to take any longer. He looked to the sky and screamed; "**WHO KEEPS LOSING THESE BLOODY MONEY BAGS?**"

**oooOOOooo**

"I don't know, Potions Professor Fella," responded a voice, breaking into his solitude. "You find more than one?"

Severus spun to face the speaker before he recognized the voice. Of course, he mused, who else would it be? The boy hung upside down from one of his trademark vines, sill barefoot and clad in his loincloth of holding. The child's one surrender to the weather was a woolen scarf around his neck and a pair of ear muffs.

"I have found several," Severus answered. "Should you be this far from the castle as a first year?"

"Part of deal with Headmaster is free run of the forest for Little Guy," the boy explained. "Potions Professor Fella is unhappy? Why? You get to make potions _all the time_!"

More and more Severus was having problems hating the boy. He was, Severus finally admitted to himself, nothing like James Potter. "Potions have lost their… allure as of late, since an accident I had with the Felix Felicis you brewed for the demonstration."

"The Bahati potion? What happen…? Oh," the boy say his eyes widening with realization. "Your hair, your skin, you are luck now?"

His mouth firmly set in a line, Severus nodded. Not one of his fellow staff had made that connection, not even Albus. Someday, he was going to have to meet the jungle man who raised the boy. "My body appears to be producing it now."

"Ah," the boy joined his nod while dismounting his vine with a summersault. "I like potions 'cause they fun, you love potions 'cause they hard. With luck, you lose challenge."

"You understand then," Severus noted as the pair began walking toward the castle.

"Yes," Little Guy agreed. "Is same for me with being here. Is fun, but I miss challenge of home where I needed."

"You are needed?" Severus asked.

"Mbebwe is big jungle," the boy admitted. "Even Dad can't be everywhere. I helped where Dad was not."

"I'm sure he is managing," Severus said, feeling utterly out of his depth in attempting to console someone.

"Oh, he managing, he George of Jungle," Little guy said with all the confidence in the world. "But even George of Jungle need help sometimes."

The pair continued their walk through the snow in silence, though Severus was a bit disconcerted by the boy's lack of clothing suitable for the weather.

When the castle came into sight, the Little Guy seemingly made a decision. "Thanks for talk Potions Professor Fella, it help a lot."

Severus blinked in surprise. What had he said? "I'm glad to have been a help, Little Guy."

"You always do," the boy grinned. "You're my best friend. See you at dinner." With that he reached up and grabbed one of his vines that appeared as he needed it. Severus stared after him as the child vanished into the trees. James Potter's son thought that Severus Snape was his best friend?

**oooOOOooo**

Severus Snape awoke to an insistent pounding on the door to his quarters.

Rising from his bed, he wrapped himself in his dressing gown and made his way to the door promising himself exquisite torture for whoever it was if the reason for waking him wasn't a good one.

Flinging the door open he found Aurora Sinistra leaning against the door frame, her hair down, her normal robes replaced by what appeared to be an oversized man's vest and he held a pair of wine glasses in her right hand and a bottle of wine in her left.

"Evening Severus," she drawled while stretching against the doorframe, "I just finished my class, and it occurred to me that you might like some company… could I come in?"

Severus' mouth went dry. It was that damned luck again. There was no way that… he lost his chain of thought when Aurora arched her back and left him with no doubt at all that she had forgotten to wear anything under the cotton vest. "Of… uh… surely," he said, opening the door wider so that she could enter, and closing it behind her once she had.

Maybe this luck wasn't so bad after all.

**oooOOOooo**

The last morning before the Yule break, Albus was in his office, waiting until Pomona had taken her seat before he asked the question.

"Why did you want to see me, Little Guy?"

"Plant Professor Fella said that Little Guy need to talk to you or to you or Professor Monster Fella about not coming back to Hogwarts after winter break."

"Not coming back?" Dumbledore asked, knowing full well just who 'Professor Monster' was and how much Minerva hated being called that. "Why would you not return?"

"Bored, mostly," the boy shrugged. "Potions Professor Fella too depressed about being lucky to be much fun anymore. Plant Professor Fella's class interesting, but plant fellas here kind of wussy. Short Professor Fella is ok and so is Astronomy Professor Fella, but Professor Monster Fella keeps teaching making living fellas from dead things and then making living fellas go away…" the boy shuddered. "I know you say that not evil, but Little Guy knows it is."

"Conjured creatures aren't living, Little Guy," Pomona said gently.

"Everyone keep saying that," the boy said with a shake of his head, "but everyone wrong. I see life in eyes, I smell scent, I smell fear, they live, and then, the life is gone. I kill to eat, and to protect. Dad kill, Mum kill, everything that lives kills, but to make life like it is easy and end it the same way is wrong. No one will convince me otherwise."

"Is it just Transfiguration that has you wanting to leave, Little Guy?" Dumbledore asked.

"No," the boy assured him. "School here is good, but not better than what back home. Staying here would be fun, but not challenging. Little Guy talk with Potions Professor Fella and realize he is right. Challenging life more important than fun life."

"Severus told you that?" Pomona asked, shocked by the idea that Severus Snape would ever offer a child… advice.

"Yep, besides, Little Guy has done what Commissioner wanted done, is time to go."

Albus blinked and exchanged a glance with Pomona. "What I wanted done," he asked, "what do you mean?"

"Oh, Commissioner, Little Guy knows you wanted me for bad wizard, has known since you came to Mbebwe," the boy grinned. "Bad wizard was evil spirit on back of Stinky Professor Fella's head, yes?"

"Yes," Albus admitted with a nod.

"Then Little Guy's job is done," the boy said with finality. "When school close for winter break, Little Guy going home."

**oooOOOooo**

Bundled against the cold, Susan led the first year girls out of the castle.

"Are you sure about this, Sue?" Millicent Bulstrode asked, "It is bloody cold out here."

"I'm sure," Susan said pointing to the grounds were they could clearly see Little Guy frolicking with his 'doggie'.

"That's an elephant!" Pansy gasped.

"No," Hermione corrected her. "That's his doggie. His big, grey, peanut loving, doggie."

The Slytherin looked at her like she was insane, "Look, I know," the Griffindor sighed, "just call the elephant, 'Spot' and go with it, it's easier."

"She's right," Hannah agreed. "He said he was leaving, if we want to say good bye, we need to do it now."

As one the group made their way through the snow to where the boy and elephant… doggie were playing.

"Hey fellas!" Little Guy called as they approached.

"Hello, Little Guy," Susan responded. "You said you were leaving, so I let the girls know, they wanted to say good bye to you."

"You didn't need to do that Fellas," Little Guy said, "Little Guy knows that is cold for you fellas. It cold for Spot too, but he is big softy."

The 'doggie' issued a trumpeting bark in response, and then flopped over on his side, rolling onto his back.

"Yes, I called you big softy," Little Guy said as he began to scratch at the 'doggie's' belly with both hands. "He's a good boy, yes he is."

Susan reached out to lightly stroke Spot's skin and was surprise at how rough it was to the touch. Hesitantly, the other girls join in, some more enthusiastically than others.

After several seconds, Little Guy stepped away from his pet. "That's enough you big softie. Time to go."

As the 'doggie' regained his feet, Little Guy turned to the girls. "Going to miss our talks," he admitted. "Still need to talk to Mum about that girl thing. If you ever want to visit Mbebwe, stop by, Little Guy and Spot show you around."

The boy was immediately surrounded by the girls, where he was hugged and in a few cases, kissed on the cheek. Once the girls were finished, he leaped into the air until he was atop his 'doggie' sitting on the creature's shoulders, just behind the huge head. "Little Guy got to go. Bye Fellas! Hey Tookie!"

The Tookie Tookie Bird landed on Little Guy's shoulder.

"**AH AH EE EE TOOKIE TOOKIE**," the bird asked.

"You bet, Tookie, time to go home," the boy confirmed.

Without another sound, the elephant, the bird, and Little Guy vanished as if they had never been there, leaving only the trampled snow as proof of their visit.

The girls stood for several moments staring where their classmate had been.

"You know," Daphne said quietly. "No one will ever believe us if we tell them about him."

The groups ended up laughing all the way back to the castle.

**oooOOOooo**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I do not own Harry Potter. Nor any of the Jay Ward Productions Characters mentioned herein. But you knew that.**

**Little Guy**

**The End**

Xenophilius Lovegood, Xeno to his friends stood with his back to his tent, both hands grasping his waist and bending backwards to extend his spine after a wonderful night in the jungle. The pops and cracks of his spine signaled that his morning ritual was complete and he turned to find his daughter, Luna, standing at his side with his morning cup of tea.

"You know love," he said after a noisy slurp, "when you first suggested surveying the jungles of Mbebwe this summer I thought you'd gone mad. I mean just the idea of a continent as well explored as Africa holding undiscovered Magical Cryptids is absurd on its face. But I'm man enough to admit when I'm wrong."

"I know you prefer exotic locations like Sweden and Bristol, Daddy," Nineteen year old Luna said daintily sipping at her own china cup. "But, I'd heard so much about Mbebwe while I was at Hogwarts, now that I've finished school, I just knew we should try here."

The two continued to survey the majesty of the Mbebweian Jungle for several moments, before Luna looked up and gasped.

"Oh, my," she said looking up into the canopy and pointing. "What is that?"

Xeno peered up into the trees and spotted what, or rather who, his daughter was pointing at. A young man of perhaps 20, lean of body and chiseled of features, his hair a windblown mess.

"Oh, that's a Jungle Man, Luna. They're fairly common and not terribly interesting. The most famous among them is of course Tarzan of the Mangani. Then of course there is Kazar of Antarctica, there's that odd fellow in the Amazon and a few others. There are some Jungle women as well, but I believe the local Jungle Man is named George."

"No, Daddy, not him," Luna insisted still pointing. "That!"

Xeno followed her gesture and identified what so interested her with a smile. "That's his penis, my dear."

"Oh," Luna said, her eyes focused piercingly on the appendage in question. "I like penis."

"Well," Xeno chuckled, "you are your mother's daughter."

Not three feet away from the pair, a huge lion emerged from the brush and roared.

**oooOOOooo**

Twenty year old Little Guy had been keeping an eye on the visitors since they had entered the jungles of Mbebwe two days before, and had come to the conclusion that they were nothing more than tourist fellas. He had almost been ready to leave the pair spotted him.

Unlike most tourist fellas, they hadn't gotten very excited about spotting someone in the canopy, though the Yellow Haired fella did point at him for quite a while.

When the lion appeared, Little Guy launched himself from the tree toward the jungle floor without a thought.

**oooOOOooo**

"Leon!" Little Guy scolded as he landed, "you know better than…"

The jungle boy's eyes widened when he saw that rather than bolt in fear from the lion, the Yellow Haired fella with the wide eyes had instead thrown herself onto of the big cat with a wide armed hug.

"Oh, he's so cute!" Yellow Haired fella proclaimed as she rubbed her cheek along the jowl of the deeply confused and extremely embarrassed lion. "Look!" the exclaimed as she placed her head under Leon's jaw, "just like my Gryffindor hat!"

"Indeed," Old fella agreed, "the likeness is amazing." The Old fella reached down and pulled Leon's left forepaw up to his eye level and began examining the paw with an odd device he held up to his eye. "Sadly, however, this fellow is nothing more than a common Panthera Leo, nothing magical about him at all."

Old fella dropped Leon's paw and turned to Little Guy and extended his hand. "George of the Jungle I presume?"

"No, Daddy," Yellow Haired fella interjected before Little Guy could respond. "That's Little Guy, the jungle wizard who attended Hogwarts the year before I started. Mr. of the Jungle would be an older man."

Old fella leaned forward to better examine Little Guy's face, "I do believe you're right Luna. Excuse me Mr. Guy, where might I find George of the Jungle?"

Finding himself sharing Leon's deep confusion, Little Guy pointed to the south west, "Three kilometers that way. Big tree house in middle of clearing, ring bell."

"Excellent, coming Luna?" Old fella asked.

"No, Daddy," Yellow Hair fella answered as Leon escaped her clutches and snuck away as quickly as possible. "I was thinking I might stay here and talk with Little Guy."

**oooOOOooo**

3,964 miles away, Severus Snape cracked open his left eye as sleep escaped his grasp. He rolled onto his back, blinking the sleep grit from his eyes and running both hands through his hair for a good morning scratch.

Then he heard it. The scrabbling of feet heading his way.

They were coming for him.

He pulled the blankets over his head, knowing that it wouldn't hide him, but a man could hope.

He still missed his time in the Potions lab, but his damned luck had made that impossible. Minerva's desire to concentrate on teaching had allowed him to move into her position as the Deputy Headmaster, where it seemed that his luck had extended to the entire school.

They were at the door. Severus feigned sleep. Maybe it would work.

It never had before.

**oooOOOooo**

"Potions Professor fella is married?" Little Guy asked incredulously.

"Oh, yes," Yellow Haired fella nodded. "Several times over."

"More than one Wife fella?" Little Guy asked, trying to imagine such a thing given the example he had been given by his Mum and Dad. "Why?"

"Professor Sinestra-Snape likes to share," Yellow Haired fella said with a shrug.

"Wow," Little Guy said, trying to imagine Potions Professor fella with Star Professor fella, and failing. The two seemed so different, but then Mum and Dad seemed different too.

"First there was Professor Sinestra-Snape," Yellow Haired fella recounted, "they were married before my first year, then here was Madam Rosmerta-Snape, that marriage was on All Hallows Eve of my first year, then there was Madam Youdle-Snape seven months later…" Yellow Haired fella seemed to think for a moment, "after that I lost track. There seemed to be a new wife every six months or so. I think he got up to 12 wives before he stopped."

"Woah," Little Guy breathed. "When Potions Professor fella starts having kids, there will be lots."

Yellow Haired fella just smiled at that. "Starts?"

**oooOOOooo**

Dozens of tiny hands pulled at his blankets. High pitched voices called his hated second name.

"Daddy!" the miniature horde chorused in cheerful voices as they pulled the blankets from his body. In seconds he was mobbed by more than three dozen children.

"I kept them out as long as I could," Aurora said in an amused tone from where she stood leaning in the door jam. "I know you like to sleep late on weekends Husband."

"Daddy!" one of the girls said as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She was, if he was any judge, one of the many three year olds. Carmella? Megan? Pricilla? It was so hard to tell, given that each of his wives seemed to get pregnant every time he slept with them, if they weren't already pregnant or nursing, and each one delivered multiples with each pregnancy, sometimes twins, sometimes quadruplets or more, but usually triplets, and of course his Felix affected hair and skin bred true in each of the children. They all looked so much alike. So much like him

"Good morning, children," he said, sitting up.

Severus detested children… but these were… his.

Besides, Aurora would castrate him and all the luck in the world wouldn't save him.

"Come to breakfast, Daddy," the girl hugging his neck said, the phrase repeated by all the rest of the children capable of speech, and garbled by those still learning.

Aurora was still smiling at him, "yes Daddy, come to breakfast. You'll likely be needed in your office in less than an hour."

**oooOOOooo**

"Hermione is working for the Ministry in International Relations while studying at Oxford," Yellow Haired fella recalled.

"Smart Fella, always busy with books," Little Guy nodded. "Any others?"

"Well," Yellow Haired fella said, "Lavender is working for Daddy as a reporter for his fashion magazine."

"Tall Blond fella," Little Guy nodded. "What about Girl fella?"

"Pansy?" Yellow Haired fella asked with a small smile, "she managed to get out of her betrothal… it seems Draco is a bit bent."

Little Guy nodded, while wondering what Yellow Hair fella meant when saying Blondie Fella was bent, and if that was as painful as it sounded. How did a fella end up bent anyway? He had hit some trees pretty hard, but had never ended up bent in any meaningful way.

"Pansy told us that she had to explain the difference between boys and girls to you," Yellow Haired fella said with a smile.

"Know now," Little Guy said with a blush. "Witch Doctor's daughters help with lessons."

"Did they?" Yellow Haired fella said with a smile.

**oooOOOooo**

As was his habit, Severus was in his office at noon on Saturdays, wondering what effect his luck would have on the school this year.

After becoming the Deputy Headmaster in July of 1992 after Minerva had demanded to be allowed to step down to concentrate on her teaching and Head of House duties.

Severus' uselessness in the Potions lab had made him prime candidate for the position.

On September first, it became evident that the oaths he had taken upon assuming the job had somehow caused his 'luck' to expand to cover the school. The first best evidence for this was when a small diary in the possession of Ginevra Weasley burst into flames as soon as she carried it across the ward boundary.

'Luckily' the girl was unharmed, though deeply frightened and worried about Tom, who lived in the diary. Albus turned the remains of the diary over to the Unspeakables, who identified it as a destroyed Horcrux. One that had links to their prisoner in amber. Those links 'luckily' led the Unspeakables to several other detached pieces of the Dark Lord's soul, including one in a hidden room at Hogwarts.

The following year, a lack of applicants for the vacant Defense Against the Dark Arts 'forced' Albus to offer the position to Remus Lupin. The Werewolf had the temerity to accept the position after Albus promised that Severus would personally brew the Wolfsbane potion needed to keep the monster at bay.

All was well until night Severus was brewing the November dosage. It was late, he was tired and honestly, he didn't care about the brew. As he worked he was wishing with all his heart that he would never need to brew Wolfsbane again, and he made a mistake while reaching for his ingredients.

The mistake didn't really worry Severus, trusting, as he had come to, that his luck would present the proper potion even if he left all the ingredients out.

That evening, he presented the Wolfsbane to Lupin, who thanked him, tipped back the goblet, draining it in the manner of one long familiar with potions, and collapsing to the floor, unconscious.

When Lupin woke the next day in the Hospital Wing, he no longer showed any signs of lycanthropy. The following full moon came and past without Lupin showing any signs of the disease.

Severus had cured lycanthropy, without even trying. 'Luckily' unlike any of his other accidental potions this one could be replicated by almost anyone.

Every magical government in the world wanted the cure and were willing to pay to get it.

In short, Severus Snape suddenly became extremely, absurdly, rich.

Though he continued to find himself tripping over lost money bags.

**oooOOOooo**

"But, Pulchell, you must study the stars and planets to discern their portents," Bane insisted.

"Don't be absurd, Daddy," his filly said with a sniff. "Do you really expect us to believe that our lives could possibly effected by the position of stars and planets at the moment of our births?"

"She's got you there, Old Paint," Captio laughed. The young stallion was Pulchell's latest beau, and one of the annoying followers of Ronan and his accursed 'science'.

Bane resisted the impulse to attack the youngster and turned again to his daughter. "The brightness of celestial objects…"

"Is nothing more than the effects of atmospherics on the available light," Captio interjected. "You're basing your predictions on nothing more than an optical illusion."

Why? Bane wondered to himself. Why hadn't he strangled that damned Tookie Tookie bird when he had the chance?

**oooOOOooo**

Upon returning from the Yule break in January of 1994 Severus spotted Ronald Weasley playing with a pet rat during breakfast. When the Deputy approached the boy to scold him for such an unhygienic act, the rat 'luckily' transformed into Peter Pettigrew.

The man quickly fell to several stunning spells from various students reacting to a grown man suddenly manifesting from nowhere.

The discovery that Pettigrew was still alive resulted in a new flurry of investigations by the Aurors office, with Amelia Bones going on a tear through Magical Britain. Pettigrew's interrogation under Veritaserum led to the man's arrest.

This led to Sirius Black being released from Azkaban, followed quickly by many of the previously 'vindicated' accused Death Eaters ending up under their own doses of the Truth Potion, which led to an increase in the prisoner population at the Wizarding Prison.

The 1995-96 school year brought the Triwizard Tournament to Hogwarts, with representatives from Durmstang and Beauxbatons coming to witness the events and take part in the tournament.

The Hogwarts representative to the competition was the young popular Hufflepuff Cedric Diggory. In an amazing display of skill, discipline and… luck, Diggory swept the three tasks, showing himself and Hogwarts to be the undisputed champions of the games.

The heads of Durmstang and Beauxbatons were livid. Albus was conciliatory and Severus did his level best to not gloat.

**oooOOOooo**

"So, I'm hoping that you will be able to assist me in my search for cryptids, Mr. Of the Jungle," Xeno said in conclusion.

George scratched his head in confusion, "Crypt-ids?"

"Our friend Xenophilius is asking for aid in finding and cataloging animals that are unknown to science, George," Ape said helpfully.

"Indeed," Xeno agreed.

"Oh," George said nodding his head. "Okie Dokie, George help, and Little Guy too if he not busy."

"Ah, yes," Xeno nodded. "Little Guy, I left him with my daughter so that she could catch him up on the happenings at Hogwarts since his departure almost 9 years ago."

"Has it really been 9 years?" Ursula asked as she arrived to serve a light lunch. "It seems just yesterday that he, Spot and Tookie left for Scotland."

"He not so little guy now," George noted.

Little Guy's traveling call echoed throughout the forest, only to stop suddenly when the tree house suddenly shuttered. The eyes of the assembled adults focused upon the tree trunk in the middle of George and Ursula's tree house as Little Guy slowly slid down from the hole in the ceiling to the floor.

"Ow!" Little Guy said rubbing his nose with his left hand, while his right arm was wrapped around a young blond bikini clad woman, who was applauding with glee.

"That was fun," Luna effused. "Let's do it again."

"Ah, speaking of my daughter," Xeno said happily. "Mr. and Mrs. Of the Jungle, Ape, my I introduce Luna Lovegood, my daughter, who appears to have made some changes to her wardrobe…" Xeno noted when he saw that Luna had, at some point, exchanged her safari clothes for a leopard skin bikini.

"I won't be Luna Lovegood for too much longer, Daddy," Luna said with a blush. "Little Guy and I are to be married."

"Married?" Ape echoed.

"Oh, yes," Luna nodded enthusiastically. "We were discussing the people he remembered from Hogwarts and how their lives are progressing, and then, after a time, we found we were in love."

"Little Guy pretty sure it took four times," Little Guy corrected his fiancé.

"Four wonderful times," she sighed. "Again?"

"Little Guy not machine, Luna fella."

"Oh," Ursula sighed, clasping her hands together and bringing them to her cheek. "This is so romantic. George, this is exactly the way we met."

"Yep," George agreed, knuckling away a tear. "He grow up so fast.

**oooOOOooo**

_**Twelve years later:**_

Severus took his seat for the welcoming feast, his first as Headmaster. He looked out across the Great Hall at the assembled students.

He tried not to think about the majority of them being his children.

Aurora, his Deputy, led the first years in to the Great Hall for their sorting. As was his wont, Severus was concentrating on the Gryffindor table where the latest horde of Weasley offspring were sitting innocently.

No doubt plotting something.

So concentrated on the Gryffindors, Severus actually missed the first few sortings, until he heard something that chilled his soul.

"Of the Jungle," Aurora said clearly. "Pretty Girl."

Severus watched with wide eyes as a tiny blond child clad in a leopard skin swimming suit disappeared under the sorting hat, only to have the hat shout "Hufflepuff!"

Little Guy had reproduced? Severus asked himself in horror.

"Of the Jungle," His wife called out, "Big Boy."

A child in a loincloth and hair like his father's loped out to the three legged stool, and the Hat shouted "Gryffindor!"

Twins? Severus' dread grew even as he realized his wife was not finished.

"Of the Jungle," She called out, "The Other One."

Another loincloth clad boy swung out to the sorting stool on a conjured vine, only to be sorted to Slytherin.

The sorting was interrupted by the Headmaster collapsing into a sobbing fit.

**oooOOOooo**


End file.
